Why Can't I?
by PiaculumDeFatum
Summary: SLASH! Crossover CSI:CSI: Miami. A conference in Chicago ends up changing both Ryan Wolfe's and Greg Sanders' lives forever.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_** _Hi all! First things first:_

_1. This is a songfic. Eventually. Kind of. Let me explain. Each chapter (save for chapter one) will be started with a line/some lines from the song _Why Can't I _by Liz Phair. And the fic is kind of based off the song…so yeah._

_2. This is SLASH! If you don't like it, don't read it! Also, this fic is humorous in some parts, fluffy in others, and angsty towards the end.  
_

_3. While this fic primarily features Greg and Ryan, it does contain their respective team members in the beginning and end._

_4. Rated for language, sexual content (nothing really smutty, sorry!) and just because I want it to be. If you believe the rating should go up/down, review and tell me. Also, un-beta'd, so any mistakes are mine.  
_

_5. Please read and review! Flames are not advised, but I'll take any and all reviews in stride. But please, don't review and be like "Ew! I hate Greg/Ryan!" or "Ew! Slash!" or something stupid like that. Constructive criticism is nice, since this is my first CSI: Miami fic. _

_6. CSI: and CSI: Miami belong to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. I own neither the characters nor the places nor yet the song. Only the plot. Spoilers for _Play With Fire_ (CSI:), but anything up to pretty much before _Nailed_ (CSI: Miami) is fair game. Oh, and the song Greg quotes is (conveniently) _Must Get Out_ by Maroon 5._

_Anyway…enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

Why Can't I?

It had started out so innocently.

Horatio had informed Ryan that he was being sent to a forensics conference in Chicago. Ryan had tried to argue this, insisting that he really had important things to do at home. Horatio had just quirked one eyebrow at him, and Ryan knew he was sunk. Screwed. Forced to go against his will.

He told Calleigh this while they went over a vic's clothes for trace evidence. "Calleigh, it's really not fair. This is my fourth conference this year!"

"Mmm," said Calleigh as she carefully bagged a blue thread.

"Are you even listening?" asked Ryan, leaning on the table and giving her a look.

"Yes, Ryan, I'm listening. Who knows, maybe this one will be fun. Maybe you'll meet some gorgeous guy and have a whirl-wind romance and..."

Ryan snorted. "Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen." He paused, then said quietly, "Besides, I'm not looking for anyone at the moment."

She shot him a look. "I thought you and Kyle broke up ages ago."

"Not ages, only a few weeks," muttered Ryan. "Anyway, this has nothing to do with Kyle. I'm just not looking for a relationship at the moment."

Calleigh just rolled her eyes as she went back to collecting evidence. "You know, Ryan," she mentioned conversationally, "you do realize that by the time you're ready for a relationship, every guy will be either dead or taken."

Now it was Ryan's turn to roll his eyes. "Don't be overdramatic. It's not like I'm old or something."

"No, but you may be legally retarded."

Ryan peeled his gloves off and tossed them violently into the garbage can. "Just because I'm not interested doesn't mean I'm retarded," he snapped, heading towards the door.

"Ryan, where are you going?" asked Calleigh, concern edging into her voice.

"On break," he said icily, storming out of the room and leaving a very troubled Calleigh behind.

* * *

When Ryan blew into the break room like a hurricane about to decimate anything in its path, Eric Delko didn't even need to ask what was wrong; he knew. "Calleigh going at you again?" he asked, just to make sure, lifting his coffee mug to his lips and taking a sip. 

Ryan shot him a look before grabbing a mug and slamming it on the counter with enough force to break it. "Goddamnit!" he exploded.

"Wow, Wolfe," said Eric with raised eyebrows and a bemused expression. "Whatever Calleigh said must've really gotten under your skin."

"It's nothing," said Ryan roughly, sweeping the shards of ceramic into the garbage can.

Eric didn't say anything, merely taking another sip of coffee and grimacing. "Well, you're not missing much with this coffee," he remarked, setting his mug down with distaste. "No one around here apparently knows how to make anything besides crap." Ryan just shrugged moodily before slumping into a chair and rubbing his face exhaustedly. Eric gave him a concerned glance. "You sure you're ok?"

Ryan nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine…did you hear Horatio is sending me to another conference?"

"Yeah," said Eric with a smirk. "Better you than me, man, that's all I've got to say. I hate those things with a passion."

Ryan shot him a look that would've stopped the polar icecaps from melting. "And you think I enjoy them any more than you do?"

"No," said Eric, still smirking, "but I do enjoy your reaction when you find out you have to go." Ryan's sour look flickered for a moment as he choked back a grin. "Seriously, man," continued Eric, "I'm sure H has a good reason for sending you to pretty much every conference in existence."

Ryan snorted. "Yeah, either that or he's just—"

"I'm just what, Mr. Wolfe?" interrupted Horatio's voice from the door. Eric almost choked on his coffee at the look on Ryan's face.

"Er…uh…I have a case I need to get back to," said Ryan, desperately looking for an escape.

"Actually, I think your time would be better served at home, packing," said Horatio calmly. "After all, your flight leaves at five tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," said Ryan meekly, standing and sulking out of the room like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Horatio turned back to Eric, who was grinning. "Another conference, H? Who suggested he go to this one? Calleigh again?"

"No, Eric," said Horatio, smiling slightly. "Actually, it was me."

Eric fell silent for a minute, then asked, "Do you think he'll find someone?"

"I hope so, Eric," said Horatio grimly. "I hope so."

* * *

In the meantime, in Las Vegas, Nevada, Gil Grissom had just informed his own young CSI that a plane was leaving the following morning for Chicago, and that he had better be on it. Greg Sanders' reaction, however, was very…Greg-like. 

"Sweet!" he exclaimed, practically giddy in his excitement. "How long will I be gone?"

Grissom raised one eyebrow at the young man. "You know, Greg," he said conversationally, leaning back in his chair, "someone might get the impression that you don't particularly enjoy working here."

Greg blushed and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "It's not that I don't like working here," he protested. "It's just that I haven't had a vacation in close to three years."

Grissom shrugged in acknowledgement. "Well, either way, your plane leaves at six tomorrow morning. You may get slightly jet-lagged, but it shouldn't be too bad. The conference itself lasts a week, not including the two travel days, so I'll expect you back in nine days, ready to make a full report."

"Sir, yes sir!" said Greg, standing at attention and snapping his heels together smartly.

"Oh, and Greg?" said Grissom, looking over the top of his glasses at him. "Take the rest of the night off to go home and pack."

"Ok, I will." He turned to leave, then paused. "Hey Griss?"

"Yes, Greg?"

"Thanks."

Grissom looked confused. "For what?"

Greg shrugged, looking embarrassed. "You know, for letting me go. It's just…this city sometimes, you know? 'This city's made us crazy and we must get out.'"

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Quoting now, are we? You're emulating me a bit too much, Greg."

Greg shrugged again, smiling slightly. "You know what they say, Griss. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

Grissom rolled his eyes, then pursed his lips in concentration. "Ok, I'll bite, who said it?"

"Who said what?" asked Greg, raising an eyebrow of his own.

"Your quote. About getting out. Who said it?"

"Maroon 5," provided Greg with a grin, turning and leaving a very confused Grissom to wonder who or what Maroon 5 was.

* * *

At precisely 3:00 the next morning, an immaculate-looking Ryan arrived at the Miami International Airport, bringing with him every piece of luggage he owned, containing every single thing he thought he could possibly have a need for, including the slightly tattered and exceptionally horrendous sweater his Great-Aunt Edna had knitted for him some five years ago. He had worn it once to humor her, but her cat had tried to use it—and him—as a scratching post. In all honesty, he should've gotten rid of it years ago, but hey, Chicago was cold. Even in September. Even after one of the hottest summers on record. 

But that was neither here nor there. Ryan was prepared. Prepared for whatever might come his way. Prepared for whatever Chicago might throw at him…or so he thought.

* * *

It was about a half past five when Greg stumbled into the airport, gulping down coffee from the steaming mug he held in one hand, the other clutching a large duffel bag into which he had thrown a few pairs of jeans and a couple of t-shirts, along with his toothbrush, electric razor, stash of Blue Hawaiian, and whatever else he had managed to grab on his way to the car. His hair stuck out at every possible angle, for once not because he had gelled it, but rather sleep and a quick tumble in bed with soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend Kristi taking its toll on his hair. 

Greg groaned as he stood in line to get through security. That's what he had forgotten to do. Quickly, he pulled a pen out of his pocket and scribbled on his hand, "Break up with Kristi!" before grinning. A whole week, alone in Chicago. Illinois wasn't going to know what hit it. He could hardly wait.

* * *

Ryan sat nervously in his airplane seat. He checked his cell phone for the fifth time to make sure it was off. A pang of guilt struck him when he remembered that he had been planning on calling Kyle back. Kyle had left him a voicemail the previous night, begging for Ryan to forgive him. 

On second thought, maybe it was better that Ryan had forgotten to call back. Maybe Ryan would find someone, and they'd be together and happy. Yeah, or maybe not.

His stomach knotted as the plane's engines revved. He hated flying.

The pilot's voice began speaking over the intercom, but Ryan tuned it out, only hearing, "Approximate landing time 10:00 am central time. Remember to set your watches back, folks!"

Ryan instantly checked his watch, then relaxed when he remembered that he had already changed it. This was going to be a long trip…

* * *

Greg air-drummed to Black Flag as he waited for the plane to take off. He ignored the wince of the elderly woman next to him as the music pounded in his ears and coursed through his veins. He only removed his headphones when a kindly stewardess reminded him that electronic devices were not permitted during take-off and landing. 

When his ears adjusted, he heard the captain say, "Approximate arrival should be at 10:00 central time. Remember to set your watches forward."

Greg grinned in anticipation as the engines revved noisily. This was going to be one of the best trips in Greg Sanders history; he just knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN:** Disclaimer same as before. For more info, see chap. 1. Sorry this chapter took so long; FFN was down. To extend the disclaimer, I do not own the city of Chicago (I only reside there), nor do I own the Hyatt-Regency hotel. Oh, and we here really do refer to it as "Chi-town". True Story. In any case…_

Chapter 2

"**Get a load of me, get a load of you"**

Ryan sighed loudly as he waited for his last suitcase to make its way over to him. He grabbed it off the carousel, then turned and ran straight into a blond guy listening to headphones. A very hot blond guy listening to headphones. He was so busy staring at the man that he didn't notice for a second that his suitcase had opened, spilling a bunch of his clothes on the ground.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," said the blond, instantly kneeling to help him pick up the clothes.

"No, I'm sorry, it was my fault," said Ryan, kneeling as well, grabbing the clothes and stuffing them back in the suitcase. "I wasn't looking where I was going, and--"

"Dude, what is this?" asked the blond, amusement evident in his voice.

Ryan looked up and blushed. "Er…that's the sweater my great-aunt Edna knitted for me," he muttered, well aware of his crimson face. Mentally, he swore. Of course, the hottest guy he had met in a long while just had to notice the most hideous thing in his wardrobe.

"Dude, it's awesome. Do you mind if I borrow it? It's freaking cold here."

Ryan looked up and noticed that the man was shivering. "Uh, sure, but only if you promise to burn it once you're done with it," he said with a grin.

The blond grinned as well before sticking out his hand for Ryan to shake. "Greg Sanders."

"Ryan Wolfe," said Ryan, shaking Greg's hand before picking up his now-closed suitcase. "And you really don't have to wear that sweater. I have other ones that you can borrow."

"No, man, it's cool. I like this one. It's my color, don't you think?" asked Greg, striking a pose that made Ryan laugh out loud. "And besides, God knows you may need those other sweaters in the middle of September."

Ryan narrowed his eyes. "Hey, you're cold, aren't you? Besides, I figure better safe than sorry. I'm from Miami, so I have no idea what Chicago weather is like."

Greg nodded understandingly. "I feel your pain. I'm from Vegas, so at this time of year, the word 'cold' is not in my vocabulary." He gave Ryan a slow grin. "We're both a long way from home, huh? What brings you to Chi-town?"

Ryan blinked incredulously at Greg. "Did you just refer to it as 'Chi-town'?" he asked.

"Heck yes, I did. I have it on good authority that that's what the natives refer to it as."

Ryan just smirked. "I'll take your word on that. Either way, I'm here for a forensics conference."

"No way!" exclaimed Greg excitedly. "Me too! I'm a CSI level one, LVPD."

"CSI level two, Miami-Dade Police Department," said Ryan, smiling slightly at Greg's enthusiasm. "You got roped into coming too, huh?"

"Roped in? I practically volunteered to come, just to get away from work for a week."

"Las Vegas treating you badly?" asked Ryan as the two found the shuttle to the Hyatt-Regency, where they were staying.

"No, man, it's not like that. I just need some time."

"Yeah, no, I read you." The two sat down together on the bus, not an easy feat to accomplish, what with Ryan's excessive baggage. He glanced at Greg, and read what Greg had written on his hand out loud. "'Break up with Kristi.' So you've got a girlfriend?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too disappointed.

"Not for long," snorted Greg. "I was going to break up with her before I left, but, well, you see how far I got with that."

"Yeah, well, she may break up with you if she hears you were wearing a sweater that hideous."

"Maybe, but I'm not the one who brought it with me to Chicago."

The two continued their playful banter all the way to the hotel, and even as they waited to check in. Ryan went first for check-in.

"Ryan Wolfe," he told the harried-looking clerk. "I'm here for the forensics conference."

She nodded, briskly typing on the computer. "Alright, Mr. Wolfe. I'm afraid to inform you that due to a lack of rooms, you're going to have to share with someone. Do you have someone in mind that you'd like to share with, or should we assign it randomly?"

"I'll room with him," interrupted Greg. He flashed the clerk a grin. "Greg Sanders. I'm here for the same conference."

"That'll be fine. Let me just get you two a room," she said, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"You don't mind, do you?" asked Greg in undertones to Ryan. "I'd rather room with you than someone I've never met before."

"Oh, don't worry, it's fine," Ryan assured him, trying not to grin like an idiot at the fact that he got to share a room with Greg.

"Here you are," said the clerk, handing them each a room key. "You'll be in room 1532. Enjoy your stay."

"Oh, we will, ma'am. Thank you," said Greg, flashing her another grin. The clerk blushed and ducked her head.

"Geez, Sanders, flirt much?" asked Ryan sarcastically as they boarded the elevator. "I'm surprised she didn't ask for your number or something."

"I'm not. I'm just hoping she'll actually decide to leave her husband."

Ryan gave Greg a quizzical look. "How do you know she was going to leave her husband?"

"She kept playing with her ring. You know, twisting it, taking it off and putting it back on. Besides, there were fading bruises on her arms. Signs of domestic abuse. That, and she liked the fact that I was flirting with her. Not too many happily-married women appreciate that." Greg snorted and grinned wickedly at Ryan. "And you call yourself a CSI."

"Hey, I'm used to observing evidence, not people," said Ryan defensively, following Greg off the elevator and down the hall to their room. "Besides, I just meant that you didn't need to flirt that much."

"Why Wolfe? You jealous?" smirked Greg.

Ryan's heart almost stopped beating. "What?" he squeaked. "I am not…" He stopped as Greg opened the door to their room, revealing a simple suite with a door leading to the bedroom…with only one bed. "There's only one bed," pointed out Ryan, rather stupidly.

"Wow, Ryan, your CSI skills are amazing," said Greg with another smirk. He tossed his duffel bag on one side of the bed. "I claim this side."

"But that means we have to share the bed," said Ryan, still not believing it.

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," said Greg sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at Ryan. "Unless you would rather take the couch. Cuz, see, I would, but I need my beauty sleep."

Ryan snorted. "No one ever accused you of being a gentleman." He took a deep breath then said, in what he hoped was a calm, controlled voice, "No, sleeping with you will be fine. I mean," he stammered, blushing furiously when he realized what he had insinuated, "sleeping in here will be fine."

"Freudian slip, eh?" remarked Greg as he settled on to "his" side of the bed.

"No!" said Ryan, his face still the color of a fire truck. "I just…oh, never mind. If you don't mind, I'm going to take a shower."

"Why would I mind?" asked Greg casually, pulling off his shoes. "Unless you're extending an invitation…then I'd be a little offended. I mean, I don't think we're at that stage of our relationship yet."

"I am not…" started Ryan hotly, but then he paused, realizing Greg was just trying to get a rise out of him. A slow grin spread over his face. "Greg, you're incorrigible." He shook his head, still grinning, then announced, "I'm taking a shower. Alone." He headed toward the bathroom, only stopping when he heard Greg speak.

"Oh, and Ryan? That down there was hardly flirting. If you thought that was flirting, then you ain't seen nothing yet."

Ryan just grinned as he went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Shorter chapter, I know. Sorry. Usual disclaimer, see chap. 1, the usual. A tiny bit of angst in this chap, towards the end, but it gets resolved quickly. At this point, I want it to focus on the beginnings of their relationship, not the ghosts of their pasts. Enjoy!_

"**Walking down the street and I hardly know you"**

After Ryan had showered and changed, he sat in the room idly flipping though the channels on the T.V. and trying to ignore Greg's horrendous singing. Greg had decided to take a shower after Ryan, and during his shower, Greg felt the need to belt Aretha Franklin songs at the top of his lungs. Ryan winced as he heard Greg warbling "Respect" incredibly off-key.

"R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Find out what it means to me!"

"Greg, shut up!" yelled Ryan over the horrific singing.

"Just a little bit! Just a little bit! Sock it to me! Sock it to me! Sock it to me! Sock it to me!"

"Greg, if you don't shut up soon, I'm going to come in there and shut you up myself!"

"I'd like to see you try, Wolfe!" called Greg in a singsong voice before launching into another song. "Cause you make me feel, you make me feel, you make me feel like a natural woman."

"GREG!" roared Ryan, getting up and banging on the bathroom door.

"Chill, man, I'm done," said Greg calmly, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Ryan blushed and averted his eyes as Greg whipped off the towel and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. "Hey, Ryan," called Greg as he meandered over to his duffel bag and peered into it. "We should do something tonight. Go sight-seeing or something."

"Sight-seeing?" repeated Ryan incredulously, mind whirling at the thought of spending time with Greg. "Ok, why not? Where do you want to go?"

"I dunno," said Greg as he pulled on a pair of jeans. "I was thinking we could go to Millennium Park, then maybe swing over to Navy Pier. Do you think the Lincoln Park Zoo is still open? And the Sears Tower?"

Ryan glanced at the clock, which proclaimed the time as 3:27. "I dunno; I'll check." He called the front desk while Greg finished dressing. "Alright, so the Sears Tower closes at 6:00, so we'll probably want to go there first. The zoo is open til eight, and then we can hit up Navy Pier."

"What about Millennium Park?" pouted Greg, rummaging through his bag for his hair gel.

Ryan gave him a look. "It's all the way on the other side of town. Besides, the front desk said that it's better in daylight. We'll go some other time, I promise."

"Alright, I guess…" said Greg, still pouting slightly as he spiked his hair. He glanced at it critically in the mirror. "Man, I haven't spiked my hair like this in while. I almost forgot what it looked like."

"Why haven't you spiked it recently?" asked Ryan as he looked at his own flat hair.

Greg shrugged. "When I became a CSI, I was trying to be more professional. I used to be all about Marilyn Manson shirts and crazy hair when I was a lab tech, but I tried to tone it down."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at Greg in sudden concentration. "You were a lab tech?" he asked, then brightened in recognition. Striding over to one of many suitcases, he pulled out an old issue of Forensic Journal. "I knew I had heard your name someplace," he exclaimed, brandishing the magazine. "Your article about protein markers was incredible."

"Thanks," said Greg modestly, flopping on to the bed.

"Greg, you're like a legend," continued Ryan excitedly. "Every forensics conference I've been to, whenever they mention DNA, your name comes up. You were probably the top DNA tech in the country before you were twenty-eight years old!" He paused and looked at Greg curiously. "What made you decide to become a CSI?"

Greg smiled but a muscle twitched in his jaw. "Oh, you know how it is. DNA got boring. I wanted to be out there collecting the DNA that I'd been analyzing for the past ever."

"But something had to change your mind," insisted Ryan, sitting on the bed next to Greg.

Greg's eyes hardened and seemed to take on a dead look. "The lab exploded."

"The…what?" said Ryan slowly, unable to believe it.

"The lab exploded. A coworker left the fume hood on with a volatile substance in it, and it blew up."

"Were you…in the lab at the time?" asked Ryan, still unable to fathom it.

"Yeah," said Greg quietly with a wry smile. "I was thrown through the window by the blast."

"Were you hurt?"

Greg swallowed hard, then said, voice barely above a whisper, "Yeah." He blinked once, twice, then said, "It was time for a change, you know?" He grinned at Ryan. "Some things were meant to be, right?" He hopped off the bed. "C'mon, we don't want to be late to the Sears Tower."

"No, no we don't," said Ryan slowly as he got off the bed as well.

Greg gave Ryan a look. "Look, man, I didn't die, ok? I'm still here and I'm fine. Better even. I know how short life can be now." He gave Ryan a grin. "Now hurry up before I leave you here!"

"Not on your life, Sanders!" said Ryan with a laugh. "I've got both room keys!" He ran out the door with Greg chasing after him.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** Sorry this chapter's so short, but it's full of random Sears Tower fluff! Yay! And as a side note, I fully realize that in the last chapter I alluded to the fact that Greg became a CSI to get out of the lab after the explosion, but if you watch season 3, he actually wants to leave the lab before the explosion. Meh. That small fact doesn't bother me, but I thought I'd point it out for the record in case it bothered any of you. But I digress. On with the chapter!_

Chapter 4

"**It's just like we were meant to be"**

Greg and Ryan stood in line to go up to the sky deck at the top of the Sears Tower. Greg rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, standing on his tiptoes to see if the line was moving yet. Ryan glanced up at him. "Greg, the line hasn't moved since the last time you looked, which was…" he consulted his watch. "Twenty seconds ago."

"Hey, it might've," said Greg defensively. "Do you think they'll let us go ahead because we're CSIs?"

Ryan shrugged. "I doubt it." He shot Greg a bemused glance as the blond once again craned his neck to look ahead. "Haven't you ever heard that patience is a virtue?"

"It's a virtue I've learned to live without."

"Ok, a watched pot never boils."

"Scientifically impossible, unless either the stove isn't on or there's nothing in the pot." He grinned at Ryan. "Any more clichés to throw at me?"

Suddenly, the line began moving and Greg let out an excited "Yes!" before punching the air victoriously and sauntering into the elevator.

Ryan chuckled softly as he joined Greg. "Only you, Greg, only you."

* * *

When they reached the top and had browsed through the dumb little museum, Greg and Ryan strolled out on to the observation deck. Greg instantly ran over to one of the telescopes and started digging into his pockets for some change. "Hey, do you have a quarter?" he asked when he came up empty.

Ryan rolled his eyes and pulled out a quarter. "You know, I never understood why someone would go up a hundred floors just to look at the ground."

Greg took the quarter and stuck his tongue out at Ryan. "It's 110 floors, actually. And I want to do it because it's tradition. Everyone does it." He put the quarter in the machine and looked out at Lake Michigan. "Oo, look at the boats!"

Ryan laughed quietly as he leaned against the rail, eyes scanning the busy Chicago streets below. When Greg's quarter ran out, he came over and threw an arm around Ryan's shoulders. They both just stared out at the lake until Greg spoke. "Thank you," he said, arm still resting comfortably on Ryan's shoulder.

"For what?" asked Ryan, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, for coming here with me. I can't think of anyone I'd rather share it with."

Ryan took a deep breath and turned toward Greg, hands automatically slipping around the blonde's waist. "Greg, I…"

"Aw, what a cute couple!" interrupted a cheerful-looking lady. She brandished her camera. "Do you mind if I take a picture for a local paper? We're doing an article about tourism at the Sears Tower."

"Not at all, ma'am," said Ryan politely, but inside he was seething at this woman for ruining the moment. With Greg's arm still around his shoulders, and his own arm wrapped around Greg's waist, the two stood together, facing the lady. Ryan took a deep breath and then relaxed, leaning into Greg and resting his head on Greg's shoulder. Greg grinned and laid his cheek against Ryan's head.

The woman snapped the picture and beamed at them. "Thank you! And if I could have your names, please?"

Greg smiled at her. "I'm Greg, Greg Sanders, and this," he said, gesturing dramatically at Ryan, "is Ryan Wolfe."

"Alright, thanks again!" she called before heading off in the other direction.

Greg raised an eyebrow at Ryan once she had disappeared from sight. "Well, that was weird."

"Oh yeah," said Ryan with a laugh. Suddenly conscious of his arm's position on Greg's body, he blushed and stammered, "Shouldn't we be getting to the zoo before it closes?"

Greg grinned at him. "Yeah, I guess so." He linked his arm through Ryan's and skipped off toward the elevator with the darker-haired man in tow, singing, "Oh, we're off to see the monkeys, the wonderful monkeys of Oz."

Ryan shook his head and laughed as they got in the elevator and headed back down.

* * *

_**A/N (the second): **Believe it or not, this did happen to me. I was at the Sears Tower on a field trip and I was hanging out with my best friend, and this lady just comes over and takes our picture. And it was weird. So yeah. Please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:** Short chappie, sorry! But it's full of wonderful, zoo fluffiness. Enjoy!_

"**Holding hands with you when we're out at night"**

Greg and Ryan took a cab to the zoo. When they arrived, Greg insisted that they had to see the monkeys first. Ryan reluctantly agreed; he was not a big fan of monkeys. Together they headed to the primate house. Greg was as giddy as a child in a candy store, rushing around and pointing at all the different breeds of monkeys. "Look, Ryan!" he exclaimed, pointing at a Golden Lion Tamarin. "It looks like me!"

It did, actually. The monkey's fur was a similar shade to Greg's hair, and the fur on his head stood up all over, just like Greg's.

Ryan grinned at Greg. "Aw, look, he has your sense of style…or lack thereof."

Greg glared at him. "Insulting my style is hitting below the belt, buddy," he said conversationally, belying his easy tone with a gentle punch to Ryan's shoulder. "You insult my sense of style and I can no longer guarantee your safety."

Ryan just laughed. "No offense, Greg, but forgive me if I don't exactly find you intimidating. After all, I used to be a cop."

Greg stopped and looked at him quizzically. "You did? I didn't know that." He mulled it over. "That's kind of cool. But just because I don't intimidate you doesn't mean I'm not still dangerous."

"Greg, you just compared yourself to a miniature primate who throws its own poop for fun."

"Well, what animal would you compare me to?" asked Greg, sticking out his tongue childishly.

Ryan thought for a minute before responding, "A raccoon."

"A raccoon?" repeated Greg incredulously. "What the hell made you choose that, of all things?"

"I happen to think you are very similar to a raccoon," said Ryan defensively. "You're funny, amusing, and incredibly curious. You both share an innate love for shiny things and for what most people would consider trash. You're creative, intelligent, friendly and playful."

"True," mused Greg, thoughtful. "I guess I never thought about it like that." He gave Ryan a grin. "You wanna know what animal I think you're like?"

Ryan groaned. 'I'm probably going to regret this, but…sure. What animal am I like?"

"A lion," said Greg simply.

"A lion?" said Ryan, raising an eyebrow. "I am nothing like a lion. I mean, as flattering as it is that you think I'm comparable to the king of the beasts, somehow, I think not."

"Ok, so maybe you're not like a lion in the whole "king of beasts" Aslan sense," agreed Greg, "but you are still like a lion!"

"How?" asked Ryan, eyebrow still raised. "I sleep twenty-three hours each day? I let the girls do my hunting for me? How? Name one way I am similar to a lion."

Ok…" acquiesced Greg after a moment, "so maybe you're not like a lion. But I'll tell you what animal you're like…a wolf!"

"Oh yeah, you're funny," growled Ryan. "Like I haven't heard every possible wolf joke in the world since I was five."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not joking." At Ryan's dubious glare, Greg insisted, "No, I'm serious! You're smart, loyal, strong, fiercely protective, and you're misunderstood by most people. So see," he said, throwing Ryan a grin, "maybe your name fits you more than you think."

Ryan couldn't help but grin; Greg's smile was contagious. "Ok, so my name fits me, alright?" he allowed. "Now drop it!"

"Sir, yes sir!" said Greg with a mocking salute. They strolled out of the primate house and past the lions. Greg stopped suddenly. "Hey, you wanna wait here for a second? I've got something I need to get."

"Ok," said Ryan with a shrug. He walked over to the lion enclosure and leaned on the rail. He watched the lions for a while, watched one huge male as he yawned. Ryan yawned himself. It was getting dark and was getting late, at least for him. He'd been up early.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head up and felt the sun's dying rays warm his face. Suddenly, he felt someone's hand grab his, and felt the person's fingers weave firmly with his. He opened his eyes to find Greg next to him, bearing a bag from the gift shop.

Greg didn't let go of his hand, simply choosing to smile and offer Ryan the bag. "I got you something."

Ryan smiled, a slightly hesitant smile, and took the bag from him with his free hand. Reluctantly, he pulled his other hand from Greg's and reached in the bag to pull out…a small, stuffed wolf. He shook his head and grinned in spite of himself. "This is what you got for me?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Heck yes," said Greg with a big grin. "I wanted to get you a souvenir to commemorate our trip here, and a wolf just seemed appropriate."

"Thank you," said Ryan with a genuine smile. Greg nodded with a small smile and then took Ryan's hand again. Ryan looked down at their entwined fingers and blushed, trying to keep a giant grin from spreading over his face.

"C'mon, let's go!" said Greg, pulling Ryan toward the exit. They left the zoo and strolled down the street, chatting quietly and window-shopping, hands still loosely woven together.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: **Teensy bit of angst in this chapter. Sorry it's so short! Usual disclaimer. Oh, and I mean absolutely no disrespect to _Brokeback Mountain_ when I mention it in here. _

"**Got a girlfriend, you say it isn't right**

**And I've got someone waiting too"**

They continued walking on towards Navy Pier. It was a long walk, but neither minded, both reveling in the opportunity to simply walk together.

It was a beautiful evening, just chilly enough for Ryan to lean against Greg for warmth, but not overly cold. The setting sun cast a red glow in the sky, reflected on the lake and glittering in the windows of the skyscrapers. People walking past paid no attention to the two men as they made their way to the Pier. They finally arrived, walking under the red metal sign proclaiming the name of the pier.

The fountain in front of the main building looking amazing in the last rays of the setting sun, the individual water droplets sparkling like liquid fire as they burst into the sky and plummeted back to the ground. Toward the east, the sky blackened like ink spreading over blue paper, with the first stars just beginning to be visible.

Greg grinned and pulled Ryan over to the fountain. "Here, wait for a second." Leaving Ryan for a brief second, he dragged a hapless bystander over, fishing in his pocket and pulling out a disposable camera. "This guy's going to take our picture!" he told Ryan excitedly.

"Is this really necessary?" groaned Ryan as he followed Greg reluctantly.

"Yes. Yes it is," said Greg firmly, turning to Ryan and wrapping his arms around his waist possessively.

Ryan groaned again, but he put his arms around Greg's neck, leaning into his embrace.

Leaning forward so that their noses were just touching, Greg asked with a smirk, "Whaddya think they'll call this, Brokeback CSI?"

Ryan burst out laughing, as did Greg, just as the camera flashed, freezing the memory forever. Greg grinned down at Ryan. "I'll make sure and send you a copy of that picture," he told him, brown eyes sparkling in amusement.

Ryan's breath caught in his throat and his mouth seemed to dry. "Greg…" he started, unsure what he was going to say, but knowing that he had to say it. "Greg, I like you. I like you a lot. And I…well, I hope you like me too."

Greg sighed and turned away. "Ryan, I do like you," he said quietly. "But I also have a girlfriend. And besides, I'm not…I mean, I've never…I've never felt like this for another guy before. And as much as I like you, I don't want to get into anything with you while I do have a girlfriend."

Ryan nodded slowly. "I understand," he said quietly. "I mean, there's this guy at home that I'm kinda…with, I guess, so…it's all good." In reality though, Ryan could feel his heart breaking.

Greg nodded shortly, then gestured with his shoulder. "Why don't we go inside?" he asked quietly. Ryan shrugged in assent and they went in. Greg groaned in envy when he saw the IMAX theatre. "Man, I wish we had known! We could've gone to the movies…" He trailed off and the two fell into an uneasy silence.

They continued through, looking at all the little shops and walking along in silence. When they neared the end, Greg gave Ryan a hesitant grin. "Wanna go on the Ferris wheel?" he asked, almost shyly.

Ryan glanced outside at the huge metal machine, its flashing lights reflecting in the lake. "Sure," he said with a shrug. "Why not?"


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N:** Fluff. This chapter is purely fluff. Oh, I don't own Build-A-Bear. I also have never really been in there, but I realize the outfits I have them use are a little too specific for the store, but hey, it's called fiction for a reason. All the steps of the Build-A-Bear process, however, are correct._

"**What if this is just the beginning?**

**We're already wet and we're gonna go swimming"**

They boarded the Ferris wheel, clambering aboard the metal gondola. The Ferris wheel at Navy Pier was immense; it was almost 150 feet tall.

Ryan and Greg sat in comfortable silence as the Ferris wheel slowly moved them toward the top. Ryan sighed morosely as he looked at Greg. A sudden thought flew into his head. Why shouldn't they be together? Sure, Greg had a girlfriend, but he was planning on breaking up with her anyway. They were in Chicago, and no one they knew was there. Why not make the most of it?

Ryan looked at Greg with new determination. When they reached the top, he was going to kiss Greg. He was going to just let go and go for it. Mentally, he steeled himself, knowing that this was completely out of character. He never did anything unexpected, never, but if he didn't try this, he was going to regret it for the rest of his life.

They sat and watched the moon's reflection on Lake Michigan ripple with the gentle waves. Ryan took a deep breath. This was it. They were almost at the top. It was now or never. He looked at Greg and swallowed hard. "Greg…" he started.

Greg looked up. "Yeah, Ryan, what is it?"

"Look, I've never done anything impulsive in my life, so forgive me if I'm a little nervous, and…"

Greg cut off his ramble. "Ryan, what's going on?"

Ryan leaned in and kissed him. Their lips met as the gondola rounded the top of the Ferris wheel. Much to Ryan's shock, Greg didn't pull away, instead cupping Ryan's cheek with his hand and deepening the kiss.

They finally broke apart to breathe, neither moving more than an inch from the other. "Wow," breathed Ryan, smiling slightly.

"Yeah," agreed Greg before leaning back in and kissing Ryan. They were still kissing when they got back down to the bottom, only breaking apart when the Ferris wheel operator cleared his throat loudly.

They left the Ferris wheel then. Greg made as if to head back to town, but Ryan stopped him. "Wait, there's one thing I want to do." Taking Greg's hand, he walked with him to the very end of the pier. Standing in silence, Ryan tilted his head up to look at the stars. Suddenly, he shouted, "This was the best night of my life!"

Greg gave him a bemused look. "What was that for?" he asked, wrapping one arm around Ryan's waist.

"I'm just happy, that's all," said Ryan, grinning like an idiot.

"Well, I'm happy that you're happy," whispered Greg in Ryan's ear, kissing him softly on the cheek. "You make me happy."

Ryan turned to him, eyes shining and a grin spreading over his face. "I have an idea," he said excitedly. Quickly, he took off in the direction of the main building. "Come on!" he called over his shoulder.

Greg ran to catch up, reaching out to grab Ryan's hand. "Where're we going?" he asked, panting slightly as he hurried to keep up.

Ryan stopped in front of the Build-A-Bear store. "Here we are," he said happily.

"Build-A-Bear?" asked Greg incredulously. "And you think I'm crazy? Why the hell are we at Build-A-Bear?"

"Um, because we're going to build each other bears…" said Ryan, raising his eyebrows with an unspoken, "Duh." He tugged at Greg's hand like a little kid. "C'mon."

He led Greg into the store and over to the bins overflowing with furry animal skins that had yet to receive their stuffing. He turned back to Greg. "Alright, so here's what we're going to do. I'm going to make a bear that represents you, and you're going to make one of me. Savvy?"

"Oh, I savvy," said Greg, beginning to grin. "I must be rubbing off on you more than I thought, because I'm surprised I didn't think of this."

Ryan grinned even wider. "Well, you know what they say…Great minds think alike…now go," he said, pushing Greg gently.

They each grabbed an animal while both trying to surreptitiously sneak glances at the other's animal and block their own from view. Ryan grabbed a light brown/golden colored bear whose fur stuck out like Greg's hair, and who had big brown eyes, just like Greg.

Greg, on the other hand, chose a slightly darker colored bear, with lighter eyes like Ryan's. The bear was also slightly shorter than the one Ryan had picked out.

They carried their bears over to the stuffing machine, each still trying to hide their choice from the other. Soon, though, they had no choice but to see the other's bear as it was stuffed.

Greg chuckled softly. "Hey, he looks like me." He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, obviously not as dashing or handsome, but hey, we can't all be the original Greg Sanders."

Ryan smirked. "Yeah, and no one ever accused you of modesty." He looked at Greg's bear with a critical eye. "I guess it looks like me…" he allowed, small smile forming on his face.

When both bears were thoroughly stuffed, the next stop was the heart. The cheerful store clerk told them to kiss the heart and make a wish. Ryan looked Greg in the eyes and kissed the heart before placing it inside. Greg did the same, smirking slightly and winking at Ryan as he did so.

Then both bears got stitched, and while they were waiting for that to finish, the two men browsed through the miniature outfits, each looking for the one that best represented the other man.

Ryan picked out jeans, a neon-colored, tie-dyed t-shirt and honest to goodness mini-Converse sneakers.

Greg chose a solid-colored green t-shirt, jeans, a suit jacket to go over the shirt, and brown shoes that looked like Ryan's.

When the bears were finished being sewn, the two men dressed them, giggling like school girls dressing their Barbie dolls. The final step before check out was birth certificates.

Ryan gave the store clerk a small smile and said, when asked what he wanted to name his bear, "Greg. Greg Sanders."

Greg told the clerk to name his bear "Ryan Wolfe," and he even made sure that Wolfe was spelt correctly.

Then the two men smiled at each other. Greg held out the Ryan-bear. "Here," he said, "this is what I see you as, in bear form at least."

Ryan grinned and gave him the bear he had made. "And this is what you are to me…but not just in bear form. I think this bear resembles you enough to be your clone."

Greg glowered at him, then brightened. "Hey, he can be my mini-me!" he exclaimed. He put his pinky up to his mouth and said, in what had to be the worst Dr. Evil impression Ryan had ever heard, "We'll call him Mini-Me."

"Greg, if you never did that again, I would be a happy man," said Ryan, raising one eyebrow at him and smirking.

Greg scowled. "You know, I don't make fun of you this way. You're so mean to me," he complained, whine creeping into his voice. "I don't know why I put up with you."

Ryan blinked innocently up at him. "I thought you put up with me because you like me."

Greg's expression softened a little as he looked down at Ryan. "I do like you," he said, taking Ryan's hand and squeezing it gently.

"Well good," said Ryan, just as gently, "because if you didn't, I know over a hundred different ways to kill you and dump your body so that no one would ever find you." He smiled widely at Greg, who couldn't help but smile back, even after the threat on his life. "C'mon," said Ryan, tugging at Greg's hand. "Let's go back to the room."

Greg raised his eyebrows suggestively at Ryan. "What are you suggesting we do?" he asked lightly, smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

Ryan smacked him on the arm. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Sanders!" he commanded. "I'm tired, that's all. So, you know, I want to sleep. And that's all I want to do," he added, glaring at Greg as if daring him to try something.

Greg just chuckled and wove his fingers together with Ryan's. "Your wish is my command," he said softly.

The pair walked back to the hotel, holding hands, with their new stuffed counterparts cradled in their arms.

_**A/N(the second): **I know, I know, no smut. Sorry! But there's a place in the song that correlates with their first time, so I'm waiting for that. Besides, I happen to think it's a wee bit too soon for them to have sex. So y'all will just have to bear with me, alright?_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: **Fluff. Good ol' conference fluff. Usual disclaimer. I will never own them, but I will continue to love them. And drool over them. But either way…_

"**Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?**

**Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?**

**It's inevitable**

**It's a fact that we're gonna get down to it**

**So tell me**

**Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?"**

Ryan woke slowly the next morning, arching his back and yawning widely. Rolling over, he whispered to Greg's sleeping form next to him, "Greg, time to get up."

"No," murmured Greg sleepily, tightening his grip on Ryan and burrowing his head deeper into his pillow. "Five more minutes,' he pleaded in muffled tones.

Ryan laughed gently and sat up, prying Greg's arms off of him. "I wish I could give you five more minutes, but if we don't hurry up, we're going to miss the first seminar."

He got out of bed, ignoring Greg, who muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Hang the goddamn seminar", and made a beeline for the coffee machine. "Don't you dare," called Greg sleepily from the bed. Yawning widely, he rolled out of bed and stretched languidly before stumbling over to his duffel bag, pulling out a bag of coffee and tossing it to Ryan. "Make this. Blue Hawaiian. Good stuff," he said in cavemanesque syllables before collapsing back onto the bed.

Ryan hid a smile and opened the bag, inhaling the deep, fragrant aroma. "Mm…" he said. "This smells good." He looked quizzically at Greg. "What type of coffee did you say this was?"

"Just. Make. Coffee," growled Greg, covering his face with his pillow and snuggling deeper into his blanket.

"Alright, alright," said Ryan with a laugh. A few minutes later, the coffee pot brimmed full with the dark liquid.

Greg staggered out of bed again and over to the sink, rummaging for a coffee mug. He thrust blindly at Ryan, silently pleading for his liquid awakening. Ryan tried not to laugh as he filled Greg's cup. Smiling happily, Greg drained his mug and held it out for more. "Hold on!" exclaimed Ryan, filling his own cup. "I haven't even had any yet and you're already wanting seconds."

"Sorry," muttered Greg sheepishly, shifting his weight uncomfortably as he waited for Ryan to finish.

Ryan took a sip of his coffee. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed. "This coffee is absolutely amazing!"

"Told you so," muttered Greg as he held his mug again. Ryan obligingly filled it, and Greg drank deeply, smile spreading over his sleepy features. "Thank you."

Ryan hid a smile. "You're welcome. I'm gonna go shower while you wake up the rest of the way."

"I'm awake!" groaned Greg. He raised one eyebrow at Ryan. "Am I invited to shower with you this morning?"

"As much as I would undoubtedly enjoy that," said Ryan, sharing a grin with Greg, "we really do have to get to that seminar today, and I have a sneaking suspicion that we would not get much showering done."

"True," agreed Greg as he stretched. "You go ahead and shower while I order us some breakfast."

"Room service?" asked Ryan. "Who do you expect to pay for that? Hopefully not me; God knows my last paycheck barely covered my bills."

"Relax," said Greg with a grin. "The room is charged to our respective PDs, right? So let them pay for it."

"Greg! We can't do that," hissed Ryan. "Do you know how much trouble I would get in if I did that?"

"Chill, man, you won't get in any trouble. Chances are they won't even check the bill, they'll just sign it." He gave Ryan a devilish smile. "Besides, if we have to be here, why not enjoy it while we can?"

"Alright," allowed Ryan, a small smile tugging at his lips. "But if we get caught, you're taking the fall." He turned back to the bathroom, then paused. "Make sure they send up hash browns."

"Oh, I will," grinned Greg, already dialing the phone. Ryan smiled as well before heading into the bathroom to shower.

* * *

After Ryan and Greg had showered, dressed and eaten, they headed down together to the seminar. Luckily, all the seminars for the conference were in the same hotel that they were staying in. Of course, they were down in the exhibition halls, which were below street level, so it took awhile getting there, but once they arrived, they sat down in two of the folding chairs provided.

Greg poked Ryan in the side. "What do you think we'll be doing today?" he asked loudly.

Ryan winced. "Lower your voice, would you?" he hissed. "Jesus Christ! Someone would think you were yelling across a freaking football field." He glared at Greg. "Didn't you pick up one of these handy-dandy little packets that give you the schedule for every day that we're here?"

"No," said Greg, lowering his voice by maybe half a decibel. "If I had one, I wouldn't be asking what we're doing today, now would I?" He sighed loudly. "Would you please tell me what we're doing today?" he pleaded, brown eyes pouting at Ryan.

Ryan relented with a sigh of his own. "Fine…today, we're doing team-building activities." He raised an eyebrow at Greg. "Wow, that sounds thrilling," he said dryly.

"Hey, it could be fun!" Greg gave Ryan a shy smile. "If we get to do a partner activity, do you want to be my partner?"

"Well, I dunno…" said Ryan jokingly. Greg's smile faltered slightly. "Of course I'll be your partner," said Ryan gently, nudging Greg amicably with his shoulder.

Greg grinned a giant grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Cool," he said, trying his hardest not to sound too excited.

"Greggo, you're weird," said Ryan, but he was smiling as well by now.

"I know," said Greg cheerfully, thoroughly comfortable with his weirdness. His expression softened when he looked over at Ryan. "It's just that this is all so new for me, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," said Ryan, squeezing Greg's hand gently. "I know."

By this time, the rest of the attendees had straggled in and taken their seats. A far-too-cheerful-looking woman stood and beamed at them all. "Good morning!" she chirped. "I hope you're all enjoying your stay thus far in the Windy City. I'm Cindy Perkins, a PR rep from the Chicago Police Department, and may I just say, we are thrilled to have you!" She chattered on about something or another for several minutes.

Ryan rolled his eyes at Greg. "Kill me now, please," he muttered, raising his arms above his head to stretch.

"Excellent!" announced the lady from the front. "We have our first volunteer!" She smiled expectantly at Ryan, who paled visibly.

"Greg," he hissed, "what did I just volunteer for?"

"You get to pick a partner and do one of those trust falls," whispered Greg, eyes twinkling. "And, since you already said I was your partner, I promise I won't drop you."

"Oh Jesus," muttered Ryan as he and Greg stood up and walked to the front of the room. Greg took a handkerchief from the lady and, winking at Ryan, tied it over Ryan's eyes.

Ryan tried to ignore the brief feeling of panic that welled in the pit of his stomach as the darkness enveloped him. "Greg?" he hissed, unable to keep some of the panic out of his voice. "Greg!"

"Shh, it's ok," whispered Greg's voice reassuringly in Ryan's ear. "I'm right here, ok? I'm right here and I'm not moving. Just relax, ok? Just relax."

Ryan took a deep breath and nodded, Greg's voice still murmuring soothingly in his ear. Taking a moment, he relaxed and then dropped backwards. He only fell for a tiny bit before his felt Greg's reassuring arms catch him.

"Excellent!" exclaimed the lady excitedly, coming over to them as Greg helped Ryan take the blindfold off. She beamed at them. "I see you two have a real bond. Are you friends?"

Greg caught Ryan's eye and coughed, trying hard not to laugh. Ryan gave him a dirty look before clearing his throat and saying, "I guess you could say that."

"Good!" she said, still beaming at them. "It's so wonderful to see two strangers become friends here."

"Yeah," muttered Greg in Ryan's ear, hand slipping down to rest lightly on Ryan's ass. "It's wonderful to become friends."

Ryan elbowed him sharply in the stomach before turning back to the leader and smiling tightly. "Oh yeah, making friends is a blast."

She smiled at them once more before saying, "Well, take your seats, take your seats! More people need to do the trust fall."

"Yeah, Greg, let's take our seats," said Ryan pointedly, taking Greg's arm and practically marching him back to their seats. "What the hell was that, Greg?" he hissed, sitting next to him. "I thought you didn't want everyone to know we're…we're…doing whatever we're doing."

"Chill, man," said Greg calmly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "Not only does no one know anything, but even if they did, no one cares! No one knows who we are! And may I just say, it's awesome." He looked at Ryan concernedly. "But if you don't want to act like we're…you know, whatever, then that's ok, too."

"I do want to," said Ryan gently, squeezing his hand back. "I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable with this…with us."

"Oh, I am," grinned Greg, slinging a casual arm around Ryan's shoulders. "I'm extremely comfortable with this."

"Good," said Ryan, looking up at him and smiling a huge smile. "Good." He lay his head against Greg's shoulder. "Thanks for catching me, by the way."

"Anytime," said Greg, smiling down at Ryan. "Anytime."


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:** Fluff. Again. Do I really have to warn about that every chapter? Because pretty much every chapter is fluffy. Wonderfully fluffy like nice, warm blankets (sorry, the weather's being a wench, so it's freakin' cold here in Chi-town). Anywho, usual disclaimer…blah blah blah…oh, I own Kristi. And Kyle. Still not Greg and Ryan… ((sigh))_

"**Isn't this the best part of breaking up**

**Finding someone else you can't get enough of**

**Someone who wants to be with you too**

**It's an itch we know we are gonna scratch**

**Gonna take awhile for this egg to hatch**

**But wouldn't it be beautiful"**

Ryan stared at the phone in his hand, looking at the blinking message proclaiming, "ONE MISSED CALL FROM KYLE. ONE NEW VOICE MAIL MESSAGE." Greg came into the room from the bathroom, toweling off his hair. "Hey," he said, leaning over and pecking Ryan on the cheek. He frowned when Ryan didn't respond. "What's up?"

"I have a message…" said Ryan slowly, still blinking at the cell phone.

Greg looked at him quizzically. "Well, aren't you going to listen to it?" he asked as he rummaged through his stuff for a clean shirt and a pair of jeans.

Ryan shook his head slowly. "It's not that simple."

"Why, is it from an ex-girlfriend?" teased Greg, pulling his shirt on. He paused, then grinned even wider. "Or is it from an ex-boyfriend?"

Much to his dismay, Ryan blushed furiously and stammered, "It's none of your business! It's just a call from Kyle…"

"Ah, so it is the ex-boyfriend!" said Greg victoriously. He pulled on his jeans and asked, "So, why don't you want to talk to this 'Kyle'? Did he dump you? Did he cheat on you? Did he…did he go straight?"

"No, he's just an asshole," muttered Ryan darkly. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Greg, it doesn't really matter."

Greg arched an eyebrow and casually plucked Ryan's cell phone out of his hands. "I think it does," he said calmly, putting the phone up to his ear.

"Greg, what are you doing?" asked Ryan, trying to stay calm.

"Calling your voicemail," replied Greg, just as calmly.

"What? No!" exclaimed Ryan, standing up and striding over. He attempted to get the phone out of Greg's hands. "Greg, give me that! Come on, man, it's not funny!"

"Shh," hushed Greg, listening intently. He hung up and handed the phone back to Ryan. He looked at him seriously and leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. "If I ever hurt you like that," he whispered, looking him straight in the eyes, "I give you permission to kill me."

"He didn't hurt me that badly," said Ryan quietly, going and sitting on the bed.

"Right," said Greg sarcastically, sitting next to him. "He only cheated on you—with both guys and girls—and broke up with you, claiming to be straight, only for you to find out he's dating your best friend. Yeah, I can see how that wouldn't hurt at all."

"You found all that out from his phone call?" asked Ryan, raising an eyebrow at Greg. "What did he say?"

"He said he was sorry for Matt, and told you to call Matt and not be angry with him, that it wasn't his fault. He said he was definitely gay now and had no intention of going back, he said that breaking up with you was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, and he apologized for all the 'flings' he had during your relationship," said Greg, ticking each point off on his fingers. He made a face, then said, "Oh yeah, and he promised that he's changed." He smiled gently at Ryan. "I inferred the rest." He paused, then asked quietly while idly tracing the sheets on the bed with his finger, "So are you going to go back to him?"

"Hell no!" snorted Ryan. "He's an asshole! And besides," he said, tone softening, "I have you now. Well, kind of…"

Greg looked at him intently for a moment then whipped out his own cell phone, quickly dialing a number. "What're you doing?" asked Ryan inquisitively.

Greg shushed him by waving his hand at him. "Hi, Kristi? Hey, it's Greg." He paused, then sighed. "Look, we gotta talk…" He sighed again. "Yeah, it's over. I'm breaking up with you."

"What?" screeched a tinny voice Ryan could just make out over the phone that Greg now held about eight inches from his ear.

"Yeah, sorry," said Greg unapologetically. "I meant to do it before I went to Chicago, but I forgot."

"But…but…but…why?" wailed the voice, still loud enough to make Greg cringe. The voice turned accusatory. "Is there someone else?"

"There wasn't before," said Greg truthfully, "but there is now." He sighed. "Look, I've been meaning to do this for awhile now, and me being here in Chicago has helped me put things in perspective and realize it."

"What's her name?" demanded Kristi's voice.

"Beg pardon?" said Greg, confused.

"What's the name of the bitch you're banging now? 'Cause I swear to God, I'll hunt her down and—"

"Whoa, calm down!" said Greg, unable to keep a smile out of his voice. "I don't think making death threats to a CSI is a good idea."

"Her name, Gregory," said Kristi in an icy voice that bore no room for argument.

He sighed deeply and said quietly, "Ryan."

Ryan looked at him, a brief surge of panic and confusion flaring in his eyes. His confusion was echoed in Kristi's voice as she repeated, "Ryan?" She started laughing, semi-hysterically. "You broke up with me for a guy?"

"Yes, Kristi, I broke up with you for a guy," said Greg patiently. "But not just any guy." He smiled at Ryan and said quietly, "I broke up with you for the best, cutest, smartest, most amazing guy in the world."

"Bullshit," she whispered. "You're not gay, Gregory, and though that may have slipped your mind at the moment, when you realize it, you'll come crawling back to me, begging for me to take you back. But I won't, so don't even bother."

"Thanks for that warning, doll," drawled Greg, making a face at Ryan. "I'll just have to make sure I don't come crawling back, right?" He didn't wait for her response. "Bye Kristi. It's been swell. Have a good life, and just for the record, it's not me, it's you. No hard feelings, eh?" He hung up the phone with the sound of her spluttered expletives ringing in his ear.

Ryan was still staring at him, mouth slightly agape. "Wha…what was that?" he asked.

Greg grinned almost shyly at him and leaned in to kiss him. "Now you do have me. All of me."

Ryan grinned widely at him and kissed him back, snaking his arms around his neck and leaning into his embrace.

Greg wrapped his arms around Ryan's waist and whispered in his ear, "Ryan Wolfe, will you go out with me?"

Stiffening in surprise, Ryan looked him straight in the eyes and asked, "Do you really mean it?" When Greg nodded, grinning, Ryan grinned as well. "Yes, yes! Of course yes!"

"Awesome," whispered Greg, pulling Ryan closer and kissing him again. "Awesome."


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N:** Usual disclaimer, though this chapter does feature a pequeño amount of smut, tempered, of course, by some humor. Regardless…_

"**Here we go we're at the beginning**

**We haven't fucked yet but my head's spinning"**

Greg deepened the kiss, putting one hand behind Ryan's head and holding him close. His mouth moved from Ryan's lips, dropping to his neck. Ryan stifled a moan as Greg's hands slowly slid under his shirt. He moaned louder as he felt Greg tugging his shirt off. He eagerly helped, raising his arms obediently above his head as Greg guided the t-shirt over them. He then reached to assist Greg with his own shirt, but Greg stopped him. "Wait."

Ryan frowned. "Greg, what…?" he asked, brow furrowed. Greg took a deep breath and took his shirt off slowly. His pale skin seemed taut with tension against his subtle muscles, and he turned, revealing his back to Ryan. Ryan couldn't help but gasp as he saw the smooth skin marred by a maze of scars stretching from shoulder to hip.

"I wanted to make sure you still wanted to," said Greg flatly, not looking at Ryan. "Even after you saw my back."

Fingers trembling slightly, Ryan reached out and ran them over the scars. He leaned over and laid a chaste kiss on the pinnacle of Greg's scars, trailing downward and kissing every inch of scarred flesh. When he had finished, he raised his head and kissed Greg on the mouth, hard. "How could I not want to?" he whispered. "You're beautiful."

Greg looked over at him and kissed him, fiercely and deeply. He pushed Ryan back onto the bed with one hand while unzipping his jeans with the other. He left them on the ground as he climbed on top of Ryan, kissing him again and helping him with his jeans.

His kissed him once more and moaned softly as Ryan's hand slid past the waistband of his boxers. "Where…condoms?" he groaned through his mounting pleasure.

"My bag," replied Ryan, reaching up to kiss Greg.

"Which one?" asked Greg, a mischievous smile glinting in his eyes.

Ryan narrowed his eyes and glared at Greg, but he was smiling. "The small one, near the door." Greg nodded and hopped off the bed, padding over to the bag.

Ryan leaned back against the pillow and grinned. This was it. There was no going back now.

A sudden howl of laughter brought Ryan from his reverie. He sat up, frowning. "What the hell is so funny?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Greg.

Greg at on the floor, cracking up, the small toiletries bag sitting next to him on the ground. "Ryan," he gasped, almost unable to talk through his laughter, "tell me this is not what I think it is."

"What?" asked Ryan defensively.

"Ryan, you have your condoms in alphabetical order according to brand and then in increasing order by size!" exclaimed Greg. His eyes widened. "And you even have them separated by plain and ribbed!"

"So?" said Ryan, raising an eyebrow even as he blushed from embarrassment.

"So nothing," said Greg with a shrug. "I just think it's funny, that's all." He paused, then added softly, "And it's cute."

Ryan rolled his eyes and flushed even more. "Just get a condom and get over here, would you?"

Greg grinned and stooped to get one, then paused. "You know something? I don't think I'm in the mood anymore."

Ryan groaned loudly, then he paused as well. "Actually, I'm not in the mood either." He paused again, then started cracking up. "Wow, Sanders, way to kill the mood!"

Greg pouted for half a second before laughing. "Sorry I'm just a mood-killer," he said jokingly, crossing back over to the bed and sitting on it, mock-dejectedly.

"It's not your fault," said Ryan soothingly. He paused, then said quietly, "If anything, it's more my fault."

Greg kissed him lightly. "It's not your fault, I promise," he said gently. He lay back on the bed, pulling Ryan down with him. "Let's just lay here awhile, alright?"

"Aw, are you proposing we spoon?" asked Ryan in a sickly sweet voice.

"Maybe," said Greg, smiling.

Ryan grinned and snuggled against Greg. "I suppose I can settle for that," he whispered, wrapping his arms around Greg's wait and laying his head against on Greg's chest.

Greg smiled and kissed the top of Ryan's head before laying his head against the pillow and closing his eyes.

* * *

"Wait, so your mom told you what 69-ing was by demonstrating with a fork and spoon!" exclaimed Ryan through his laughter.

Greg grinned, blushing almost scarlet. "I was 10!" he protested. "I wanted to know what it was, so she explained it the best she could!"

"Yeah, but a fork and a spoon?" choked Ryan, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. He and Greg sat on the couch, drinking coffee and sharing funny and embarrassing stories from their childhoods.

"I'm sure you had a mortifying sex talk, too," said Greg sulkily. "Somewhere along the line."

Ryan's smile faltered slightly. "Yeah, how 'bout when I told my parents I was gay? That was pretty much the hardest thing I've had to do, ever. Not to mention the fact that my dad pretty much disowned me after that."

"I'm sorry," said Greg quietly, reaching out and taking his hand. "When did you tell them?"

"I was fifteen," said Ryan quietly. He paused, then asked, "Are you going to tell your parents? Will they freak?"

"Will they freak?" repeated Greg incredulously. "Hell no! I lived in San Francisco most of my life. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can freak my parents out anymore." He paused, then said gently, "And of course I'm going to tell them. You're probably the best thing that's ever happened to me." Ryan grinned and leaned in to kiss him. Greg kissed him back, then whispered, "You know something? I'm in the mood again."

Ryan looked back up at him and grinned even wider. "My conversational skills turning you on, Sanders?"

Greg's eyes seemed to darken as he looked down at Ryan. "No," he whispered, hot breath tickling Ryan's ear, "but you turn me on."

Ryan chuckled softly and kissed him gently. "Are you going to get a condom this time or will something else incite your ADD brain into uproarious laughter?"

Greg grinned evilly and pulled a condom from under the couch cushion. "I already have one."

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" asked Ryan breathlessly, heart pounding.

Greg smirked at him. "For you to get your ass off the couch and come with me to the bedroom." Ryan grinned and hurried after Greg, pausing only to shut the door to the bedroom after him.

* * *

_**A/N: **Ok, the 69-ing story? Yeah, that's true. Except it wasn't my mom who showed me that, it was my crazy Scottish friend. Either way. _


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: **Usual disclaimer applies as always. I apologize ahead of time for the long, drawn-out and pointlessness of this chapter. It's pretty much just random fluff. Only seven chapters left…I feel sad.__But in any case…read and enjoy! _

"**Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?**

**Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?**

**It's inevitable**

**It's the fact that we're gonna get down to it**

**So tell me**

**Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?"**

Greg rolled over and kissed Ryan gently on the cheek. "Ryan," he whispered in his ear. "Ryan."

"Mmmph," muttered Ryan sleepily, rolling over and curling up with his back to Greg. "Leave me alone. We don't have a conference session today."

"I know," said Greg, propping his head up on his hand as he looked at Ryan. "I was thinking we could do something today…like go to Millennium Park."

"Let me get this straight," said Ryan, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "when we actually have to be somewhere, you won't get up and want to sleep, but when we get to sleep, you want nothing more than to get up and do stuff?" He smiled and shook his head, fighting off a yawn. "I will never understand you, Greg."

"If you want to sleep, I guess I'll let you," said Greg reluctantly, flopping back down on the bed. "After all," he added, smiling wickedly, "I did keep you up awfully late last night."

Ryan glared at him and sat up, stretching as he did so. "No," he said, yawning widely, "you woke me up and now I'm up." He stood and walked over to the coffee machine, calling over his shoulder, "Hey, have you got anymore of that coffee?"

"God, you're gonna clean me out of my entire stock!" complained Greg, rolling out of bed and stalking over to his bag to grab some more.

"That's not my fault," said Ryan defensively. "You're the one that got me addicted to it! And besides, soon enough, I've gotta go back to Miami, and the coffee we've got at the lab is revolting."

Greg sighed and rolled his eyes. "I guess I can satisfy you…" he said, then he grinned. "In more ways then one if you'd like…"

Ryan glared at him, but the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. "Only you can turn anything into something sexual," he commented, starting the coffee machine. He turned back to Greg. "Are we going to order room service again, or what?"

"Oo!" said Greg excitedly, bouncing up and down on the ball of his feet. "Let's go out for breakfast. We can go to a little café and get some pancakes and—"

"Whoa, calm down!" laughed Ryan, coming over and wrapping his arms around Greg's waist. "We can go out for breakfast, that's fine with me."

Greg grinned and rested his forehead against Ryan's. "That would make me really, really happy," he whispered, touching his nose to Ryan's. "Just being with you makes me happy."

Ryan smiled but shook his head, pushing Greg away. "Go shower, you big sap. I'm going to have myself some coffee and shower myself, and then we can go for breakfast."

"Awesome," grinned Greg, leaning in for a quick kiss before he disappeared to the bathroom, whistling, "Put on a Happy Face." When he shut the door, he started belting, "And spread sunshine all over the place, just put on a happy face!"

"Shut up, Greg!" roared Ryan, shaking his head again. He started fixing himself a cup of coffee, and was quite surprised to find himself humming "Put on a Happy Face," under his breath. "Damn," he muttered, unable to keep from smiling. "Damn."

* * *

Greg and Ryan strolled through Millennium Park, hand in hand. Greg was giddy as a child, running ahead of Ryan to point things out, like the Cloud Gate (which Ryan still thought just looked like a giant bean) and the Crown Fountain (which Ryan found creepy; who wanted to look at giant faces spitting water at you?) Greg, of course, was fascinated by the fountain, and ran under the water no less than five times, succeeding in getting himself completely and utterly soaked. 

Ryan smiled at Greg as he walked to where Greg now stood, drenched but happy, looking up at the Cloud Gate, the sky reflecting off its surface and Greg's eyes. Greg took a deep breath and exhaled in a contented sigh. He turned to Ryan and smiled happily. "Thanks for coming with me today."

"You're welcome," said Ryan, hiding a smile. "But you do realize the day's not over yet."

Greg grinned and wove his fingers with Ryan's. "Well, what do you suggest we do, Mr. Wolfe?"

"Well…" said Ryan, cocking his head slightly. "I don't know if you would be interested, Mr. Sanders, but I thought maybe we could see a baseball game."

"Sweet!" exclaimed Greg, beaming at Ryan. "I love baseball!" He paused, then shrugged and said, "Ok, well, I actually haven't seen a baseball game in years, but I used to like it."

"That's good," laughed Ryan, turning to head out of the park. "What was the last baseball game you saw?"

"Er…I think I saw the 49ers play when I was in college…" said Greg slowly, trying to remember.

Ryan burst out laughing. "Greg, the 49ers are a football team!" he exclaimed.

Greg shrugged nonchalantly. "Meh," he said, unconcerned about his sports faux pas. He started skipping off toward the street, then stopped. "How are we gonna get there?" he asked, turning back around. "Are we taking a cab, or what?"

Ryan shrugged. "We can take a cab if want, or we can take the El…either way is fine with me."

"Oo, let's take the train!" exclaimed Greg, looking far-too excited.

"Ok, we'll take the train," said Ryan with a smile.

They continued walking. Suddenly, Greg stopped and frowned. "Which are we going to?" he asked, brow furrowed. "Comiskey Park of Wrigley Field?"

"It's U.S. Cellular field now," said Ryan, shrugging, "and I don't care. It's up to you. Both have games today. The Cubs start at one, and the Sox at one-thirty."

"Cubs, definitely," said Greg without a moment of hesitation.

"Cubs?" asked Ryan incredulously, stopping and giving Greg a look. "Why don't you want to watch a team that actually has a chance of winning?"

Greg gave Ryan a look of his own. "You always root for the underdog," he informed him, arching an eyebrow. "Besides," he added, smirking devilishly at Ryan, "I thought you said it was my choice."

"It is…" said Ryan reluctantly, but he smiled up at Greg. "So long at we get to do whatever I want to afterwards."

Greg cocked his head and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Ryan. "Well, that depends on what you have planned…"

Ryan grinned and shook his head, sticking his tongue out childishly. "Nuh-uh, not gonna tell!" he said in a singsong voice. "It's a surprise…"

"How can I agree to something when I don't even know what it is?" coaxed Greg in wheedling tones, pouting slightly and looking pleadingly at Ryan with puppy-dog eyes.

Ryan, however, was adamant. "Nope. Try as much as you want, Sanders, my lips are sealed."

Greg raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to Ryan. "Well, what if I were to take my lips and—" He leaned in and kissed Ryan gently.

Laughing slightly, Ryan pushed him away. "Sex gets you nowhere, Greggo," he informed him, eyes twinkling. "Well, almost nowhere," he added as an afterthought, taking Greg's hand and pulling him. "Now c'mon. We've gotta go or we're going to be late."

Greg smiled as they both headed off toward the nearest El station.

* * *

"Hot dogs!" yelled a vendor as he paced the aisles of Wrigley Field, waving his merchandise in the air. "Get your hot dogs here!" 

Greg edged around him to return to his seat, trying to prevent the white foam of the beers he was carrying from slopping out. An overzealous fan leapt out of his seat, accidentally jarring his elbow and causing a large amount of beer to spill onto his hand.

"Shit," he muttered darkly, finally making it to his seat.

"Oh, pobrecito," said Ryan warmly, reaching up and taking the full beer from him. "Did ickle Greggo spill some beer on himself?" he asked in a singsong voice.

Greg scowled at Ryan, plopping down into his seat and wiping off his hand with a napkin. "'Ickle' Greggo didn't do anything," he snapped. "Some stupid Marlins fan made me spill."

"Tell me you're not dissing the Marlins," said Ryan mildly, but he raised an eyebrow at Greg. "Even though I'm not a fan, offending my home team just isn't cool."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Greg, eyes twinkling. "Can you ever forgive me? I don't think I could take the anguish if you couldn't."

Now it was Ryan's turn to scowl. But it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile as he watched Greg suck on his hand in an attempt to get the beer off. Suddenly, he frowned again. "Greg, you didn't get me my popcorn," he informed him.

"Damn," groaned Greg. "Why the hell do I have to get you everything?" he complained, trying to give Ryan the evil eye and failing. Miserably.

"Well, you were the one who volunteered to take the aisle seat," Ryan reminded him, raising an eyebrow. "In fact, as far as I can remember, you insisted on it. Something about wanting to stretch your legs out in the aisle."

Greg gave him a look and stood reluctantly, stomping back up the aisle to get Ryan his stupid popcorn.

Ryan chuckled softly as he watched Greg stomp off before turning back to the game.

* * *

By the time Greg got back with this popcorn, it was time for the seventh inning stretch. Greg and Ryan both stood up, surrounded by semi-sloshed Cubs fans drowning their sorrows in beer (the Cubs were losing 5-1). 

The announcer began "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," and both men willingly joined in, even singing it the Chicago way and changing "home team" to "Cubbies."

"For it's root, root, root for the Cubbies

If they don't win it's a shame

For it's one, two, three strikes you're out

At the old ball game!"

The crowd broke out into cheers and Greg threw an arm around Ryan's shoulders, hugging him to him.

Suddenly, Ryan and Greg were up on the big screen, courtesy of the "Kiss Cam." The crowd around them started chanting, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Greg looked at Ryan and shrugged, grinning. Ryan shrugged as well, although he blushed scarlet, and they leaned in and kissed each other.

The crowd around them cheered wildly, and Ryan wrapped his arms around Greg's wait, deepening the kiss. Even though the "kiss cam" had already moved on, they still kissed, wrapped in each other's arms, oblivious to the game starting again.

They broke apart after a few moments and Ryan grinned at Greg. Greg grinned back before grabbing Ryan's hand and saying, "Why don't we blow this popsicle stand?"

"Mm, I suppose," agreed Ryan, leaning his head against Greg's shoulder. "What time is it?"

"A little after three," replied Greg after a quick consultation of his watch. He gave Ryan a sideways glance and asked casually, "What time do we have to be at this…place that we're going to?"

"7:15 or so," said Ryan unconcernedly, gathering their garbage to throw out. He gave Greg a sideways glance of his own, shaking his head and smiling. "And you're still not getting where we're going out of me."

"Damn, you're onto me," muttered Greg darkly, but he couldn't help but smile at Ryan as they made their way out of Wrigley Field and back toward the El station. "Well, what're we going to do in the meantime?" he asked as they boarded the train.

Ryan gave Greg a look. "What do you think we're gonna do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 'We're in Chicago, home of the Magnificent Mile!" He grinned widely. "We're going shopping."

* * *

Two hours and several hundred dollars later, Greg and Ryan walked down Michigan Avenue. Technically, Ryan walked. Greg kind of teetered, laden down with bags containing all of their purchases. 

In actuality, majority of the things that had been bought that day had been purchased by Ryan. Greg had bought a pair of jeans and a new CD. The rest was Ryan's.

Greg pointed this out as he rebalanced a pair of shoes from the Nike store on top of a bag from the Gap. "Ryan, why the hell am I carrying all your sit?"

Ryan blinked innocently up at him. "Because you're a gentleman," he said, then he added sweetly, "And because you're such a big, strong, fine man."

Greg groaned. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Wolfe," he snapped, leaning against the wall of a building as they waited for the light to change. "And besides, I know that hidden under those suit jackets you insist upon wearing are hidden arm muscles bigger than mine will ever be. So don't go pulling that 'strong' crap with me."

Ryan just grinned. "You know, I'd gladly take some of those bags from you if you'd just ask," he said gently, nudging Greg with his shoulder.

Greg glowered at him. "Oh no you don't," he growled, holding onto the bags possessively. "I'm not weak; I can carry these bags just fine."

Smiling sweetly up at him, Ryan said, "Then stop complaining about it."

He grinned as Greg's face turned dark when he realized what had just happened. "You're dead, Wolfe," said Greg menacingly.

Ryan just laughed, and Greg's face softened. He leaned in and kissed Ryan softly on the lips. Ryan kissed him back, leaning into it and kissing Greg deeply. They broke apart and Ryan smiled up at Greg, reaching out and taking a few of the bags from him. "What do you say to dropping these off at the hotel and then heading for an early dinner?" asked Ryan, taking Greg's now-free hand. "My treat."

"Ok," grinned Greg. "Ok."

* * *

After dinner, Greg and Ryan strolled down the streets of Chicago, hand in hand, on their way to Ryan's…place. Greg was still mystified as to where they were going, until they turned onto Randolph Street, entering the theatre district. Greg looked at Ryan and smiled. "Are we going to see a show?" he asked hopefully. 

Ryan smiled back at him. "Perhaps," he replied, trying to be cryptic. When Greg pouted at him, he relented. "Fine, fine. Yes, we're going to see a show, alright?"

"Yay!" cheered Greg, beaming happily. They kept walking until Greg suddenly stopped and asked, "What show are we going to?"

Ryan groaned aloud. "Have you no patience, man? We'll be there in five minutes, and you honestly can't wait that long?"

Greg cocked his head to the side as if he was honestly considering it. "Nope," he said cheerfully, then returned to giving Ryan the maxed-up puppy-dog eyes.

Groaning again, Ryan relented. "Fine, I'll give you a clue. The musical we're going to see won a Tony Award for Best Actress in 2004. It was also nominated for nine other categories, including Best Musical."

Greg pulled a face as he frowned, thinking. His thoughts kept him occupied until they reached the theatre, and Ryan cleared his throat gently. "Greg, we're here."

Looking up, Greg's eyes widened as he took in the green lights that illuminated the marquee of the Oriental Theatre. "We're going to see Wicked?" asked Greg in a stage whisper.

"Yep," grinned Ryan, taking his arm. He paused, then asked worriedly, "Is that alright?"

"That's more than alright, it's amazing!" exclaimed Greg. "I've always wanted to see Wicked, but when I checked online for tickets to see it while I was here, it was sold out." He gave Ryan a curious look. "Speaking of which, how did you get tickets?"

Ryan smirked. "My cousin's husband is in the show. He's one of the flying monkeys, and he hooked me up with tickets. Center stage, second row of the loge." He pulled the tickets out of his pocket. "Pretty damn good seats, all things considered."

Greg grinned and wrapped his arms around waist. "Did I ever get around to telling you how absolutely amazing you are," he asked, hot breath tickling Ryan's ear.

"Mm," said Ryan, putting his arms around Greg's neck. "You may have mentioned something about it, but I think you'll just have to show me how amazing I am later tonight."

Greg's grin turned dirty. "I'll be sure to take you up on that offer." He hooked his arms through Ryan's. "C'mon, we'd better go or we're going to be late." They both turned and entered the theatre together.

* * *

Greg and Ryan watched the entirety of Wicked in a sort of stunned amazement, at times laughing out loud and at times clutching each other to try and keep from crying. By the end of the show, though, both men were sobbing, though Greg would later vehemently deny it. 

As they left the theatre, they discussed the show, reminiscing about "Defying Gravity" and "For Good", which they both thought were amazing songs. Though they couldn't agree on whether Glinda or Elphaba was the protagonist, and whether "As Long as You're Mine" or "I'm Not That Girl" was better, they both concurred on one point: Fiyero was hot.

Once they were outside of the theatre district and away from all the crowds, Greg took Ryan's hand and kissed it. "What do you say I take you up on that offer now?" he asked, voice deep and alluring, his eyes burning darkly.

Ryan didn't answer, simply throwing his arms around Greg's neck and kissing him deeply. Greg laughed gently. "I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

_**A/N: **Oh, by the way, the "El" is an abbreviation for Elevated, which is what we Chicagoans call our…er…would it be super-way instead of subway? Well, whatever. Oh, and Wicked is, quite unfortunately, not mine. But it is amazing. If you ever get a chance to see it, go. It's fan-freaking-tastic.  
_


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N:** Usual disclaimer. Not altogether too much to say about this chapter. A wee bit of angst towards the end, but the next chapter will have more, I promise. _

"**High enough for you to make me wonder**

**Where it's going"**

The next day, Ryan and Greg only had a session for the conference in the morning, so at one o'clock they strolled out of the Hyatt. Greg looked over at Ryan and rolled his eyes. "If they show me one more time how to lift a fingerprint using a mold," he said threateningly, shaking his head.

Ryan chuckled. "Hey, you're the one who volunteered to come to this conference," he reminded him. "Besides, I for one thought it was very sexy when you informed the instructor it was still possible to get DNA from compromised evidence, depending on what compromised it."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Greg took Ryan's hand and squeezed it. "She was being a douche, so she deserved it." He lifted his face up and felt the sun warm it. "It's a beautiful day out," he remarked.

Ryan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it feels like summer today." He looked up at Greg. "We should do something today, like go to the beach."

"Oo, yeah!" agreed Greg. "Let's go to the Michigan dunes. We can even surf together!"

"Er…" said Ryan hesitantly. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I have like nil balance, and besides, I've never surfed before, so…"

"What!" exclaimed Greg, stopping and giving him an incredulous look. " You live in Miami and you've never gone surfing? Why the hell not?"

"Um, cuz I value my life?" suggested Ryan. "Really, I'll be perfectly happy watching you surf."

"Oh, no way," said Greg, smirking evilly. "I'm teaching you to surf whether you like it or not. By the time I'm through with you, at the very least you'll be able to ride a wave in."

"Alright," agreed Ryan reluctantly. He looked up at Greg and grinned. "Teach me."

* * *

Greg looked around the semi-crowded Michigan dunes and grinned. He reached up and took his sunglasses off, squinting as the intense sun pierced his eyes. "Oh yeah, look at those waves," he said to Ryan, eyes glinting with a sort of wild light. "Perfect surfing weather."

Ryan looked with a critical eye at the large waves crashing onto the shore and swallowed, hard. "If you say so," he said, trying to shake the feeling of apprehension that gnawed at his stomach.

Picking up on this, Greg took Ryan's hand and squeezed it. "Hey, it's ok," he said quietly. "You don't have to surf if you don't want to." He paused, then grinned slowly. "If you're too chicken."

Ryan looked up indignantly. "I am not chicken," he protested hotly, glaring at Greg. "I'll prove it to you, too."

"Great," grinned Greg. Leaning down, he spread his towel on a clear spot of beach before pulling his shirt over his head.

Even though he had seen it many times before, Ryan couldn't help but marvel at the sculpted masterpiece of Greg's chest. Running one finger over Greg's abs, Ryan remarked, "Jesus, Sanders, you're as pale as a vampire! Have you ever seen the light of day?"

Greg grinned, and the brightness of his smile was enough to cancel out the paleness of his skin. "Sorry I'm not as sun-kissed as you, Wolfe, but I work nightshift in a city not known for its extensive beaches."

Ryan smiled as he too took off his shirt, glad his skin wasn't blindingly white like Greg's. As he put his towel on the ground, he said aloud, "Well, maybe you should come back to Miami with me."

Silence fell for a few seconds until Ryan realized what he had implied. "To visit, I mean," he added hastily.

Greg nodded shortly, looking over at the water "Yeah, maybe I will," he mused. Grinning suddenly, he reached for Ryan's hand. "C'mon, let's go! I want to hit these waves now."

"I guess," groaned Ryan, but he followed Greg over to go rent some boards.

* * *

Roughly forty-five minutes later found Ryan clutching onto his surfboard for dear life as he bobbed up and down with the waves that swelled around and under him. Greg, who had already ridden in three waves, was sitting up on his board, to the left of Ryan, apparently oblivious to the spray of the cold lake water. "C'mon Ryan," encouraged Greg, glancing behind him at the forming waves. "You can ride this one in. It's a nice, gentle one, just for you."

Ryan gulped and sat up, looking at the wave coming in behind him. Then he looked over at Greg, and Greg smiled at him, giving him a small nod in encouragement. Swallowing hard, Ryan took a deep breath and stood up shakily on his board, miraculously managing to stay on. The wave swelled underneath him and took him towards the shore. Somehow able to stay on until he neared the shore, the wave suddenly pitched him off the board.

Spluttering, he stood up in the shallows, spitting out water and trying to wipe his dripping face off with no avail. Greg took the next wave in and, hopping off his board, jogged over to him. "Nice job!" he exclaimed. "You just rode your first wave in! What did you think?'

Ryan looked up at Greg through the wet locks of hair that were plastered onto his forehead. "I think I never want to do that again," he said, wading out of the water and sitting down sulkily on the ground.

Greg laughed out loud as he fished Ryan's board out of the water. "Well, you tried it once, and that's good enough for me." He sat both boards down next to Ryan and sat down beside him. Giving him a grin, Greg put his arm around Ryan's shoulders and hugged him to him. "I'm proud of you," he whispered, kissing him gently on the temple.

Smiling up at him, Ryan pushed Greg away. "Go surf," he commanded, tempering his harshness with his grin. "I know that's what you want to do."

"Are you sure?" asked Greg, looking worriedly at him. "I'd feel bad just leaving you here all alone."

"Go!" said Ryan again. "I'll be fine. Besides, I need to work on my tan, don't you think?" He stuck his already-tanned arm out at Greg, who scowled at him.

"Sure, rub it in," muttered Greg, reaching over and picking up his surfboard before he stood and strode back into the water.

Ryan smiled and shook his head before picking himself up and heading back to his towel, further up the beach. He sat down, watching Greg paddle out, farther than he had gone out with Ryan.

Ryan lay back against the warm sand, watching Greg expertly ride the crest of a wave, doing tricks and all sorts of things. God, he was falling for him so hard…but did Greg feel the same? Or was he just in it for fun?

Ryan watched Greg surf, watched his face. He looked so carefree, so independent. And Ryan wondered if he'd ever settle down, ever want to commit. Was he as committed to this relationship as Ryan already was? Jesus, and here he was thinking commitment. This was supposed to be fun, not a life sentence.

Even as he thought this, Ryan knew that to him, this wasn't just fun. This wasn't just a fling or a quick fuck. This was the real deal.

With a sigh, Ryan sat up and reached into his bag to pull out the sunscreen. He knew he had to tell Greg. Had to tell him how he felt, how he really felt. He just didn't want to scare him away. How do you tell the same person who can't sit still for more than five minutes at one time that you wanted a life-long relationship with them? Ryan knew it would be like caging him, like clipping Greg's wings and sticking him in a cage, and he just knew he couldn't do that to Greg. It would kill everything Greg was, everything he stood for.

What was the phrase, about how if you love someone, you have to set them free? Ryan took a deep, shaky breath, feeling tears in his eyes. Maybe he had to set Greg free. Maybe.

A sudden shout from Greg broke through Ryan's thoughts. Greg jogged up to him, dropping his board and collapsing on the ground next to him, panting. "Those are some amazing waves, dude," he said, wiping off his face with his towel. He sat up and gave Ryan a worried look. "Are you ok?" he asked, reaching out and cupping Ryan's face with one hand. "You look worried about something."

Ryan shook his head quickly. "No, I'm ok," he heard himself say, heard himself lie. He forced his mouth into a smile. "Everything's fine."

* * *

**_A/N:_**_ Aw, poor Ryan...But it has opened a bit of a Pandora's box as far as issues they need to deal with...Stay tuned..._  



	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: **How this story went from ridiculous fluff to angst is beyond me, but here we are. Another chapter, and it's full of angst. As are the next few. In any case, usual disclaimer. Additional explanation as to the time-line at the bottom. Enjoy!_

"**High enough for you to pull me under**

**Something's growing**

**Out of this that we can't control"**

Greg frowned. "No you're not," he said, eyes searching Ryan's. "You're not fine. You're worried about something and I can see it." He paused, then said, "Ryan, tell me what's wrong, please. I want to help."

Adamant, Ryan shook his head. "I don't want to…to tie you down with my problems," he muttered, not meeting Greg's eyes.

Greg looked surprised and a little hurt. "What do you mean, you don't want to tie me down?" he asked, trying not to sound as hurt as he was. "I thought we were in a relationship, and I thought that meant that we told each other everything. I guess I was wrong."

Ryan looked up, pleadingly. "Greg, no, it's not like that. It's just that…" He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind," he said quietly, not looking at Greg again. "It's not a big deal."

"Damnit, Ryan, it is a big deal!" said Greg angrily. "If it's bugging you so much, then it's a big deal to you and hence a big deal to me!" He stood up and brushed the sand off his legs.

"It may be something to me," said Ryan, starting to get angry as well, "but that doesn't mean that you have to take it upon yourself to try and make it right. It's my problem, not yours, so you can butt out of my business any time you want."

Greg froze. He swallowed hard. "You want me out of your business?" he asked hollowly, not looking at Ryan. Slowly, he nodded as if in realization. "Fine, then, I'll go." He turned and met Ryan's eyes, tears welling in his own. "If I mean that little to you that you can't even tell me what's going on in your life, then I'm gone."

"Greg, wait—" started Ryan, but Greg cut him off.

"No, you wait, Ryan." He paused and ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to. He sighed. "I thought we were in a relationship, and I was under the assumption that in a relationship, you share things that are happening to you. I thought that this relationship meant something to you. Hell, I thought I meant something to you." He paused again, and when he spoke next, his voice was thick with tears. "I guess I was wrong."

"No, you're not wrong," said Ryan quietly, standing up and walking over to him. "You're not wrong. You do mean something to me, something more than I can ever explain to anyone."

"Then why won't you tell me what's going on?" asked Greg, looking at him.

Ryan sighed. "Because I'm scared," he whispered. "I'm scared of making you run away, scared of the repercussions of what I might say."

Greg took Ryan's hand. "You can tell me anything," he promised quietly, looking Ryan straight in the eye. "I promise I won't run away. I'm committed to this, committed to you. Possibly more committed to this than anything I've ever been committed to before."

"You are?" breathed Ryan, looking up at him incredulously. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Greg, smiling slightly. "Yeah, I am. And I want this more than I think I have wanted anything in my life." He paused and looked at Ryan. "But if we're going to make this work, we have to be able to tell each other everything."

"I don't want to tie you down," blurted Ryan, blushing and averting his eyes.

Greg rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you, telling me your problems isn't tying me down."

"No, not like that," said Ryan, shaking his head. "I mean, I don't want to tie you down permanently. I don't want to put you in a cage for the rest of your life."

Greg smiled sadly. "Ryan, I doubt there's a cage big enough that could hold me yet." He sighed and turned away. "And now we're reaching the realm of something I'm afraid of." He paused. "I'm afraid of saying good-bye."

"Good-bye?" whispered Ryan, looking at him.

"Yeah," affirmed Greg. He swallowed hard. "Tomorrow's the last day of the conference, and then after that, we have to go our separate ways and say good-bye."

"We don't have to, whispered Ryan. "We don't have to say good-bye or go our separate ways. I could come with you back to Vegas, or you could come with me to Miami, and—"

"And do what?" asked Greg quietly. "I don't have a job in Miami. I don't friends in Miami. My entire life is in Vegas. My parents live in California. I'm a West Coast boy."

"Then I could come to Vegas," offered Ryan.

Greg gave him a look. "Right, and then you won't have a job, or friends, or family." He sighed. "Either way we try to do this, one of us ends up losing."

"But we'd have each other," protested Ryan softly.

Greg nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah we would, and God knows that I don't know what I'd do without you, but I can't just move cross-country, and neither can you."

"Then it's hopeless," whispered Ryan despairingly, eyes welling with tears. "You and I will be forced to spend the rest of our lives apart, and miserable."

"It's never hopeless," whispered Greg, reaching out and brushing Ryan's tears off. "Never think that it's hopeless. I don't know what the future holds, but I know you're in it somewhere, whether in just my thoughts or in my heart, but you're still there." He paused, then whispered, "I love you."

"What?" said Ryan, unable to believe it.

"I love you," repeated Greg, more surely. "I love you now, I will love you forever, and though I can't tell you where forever will take me, I will still love you."

"I…I…don't know what to say," stammered Ryan.

"Well, you could start with 'I love you, too'" suggested Greg, gently, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I do," said Ryan quickly, then he blushed. "I mean, I do love you. Forever and always, like you said."

"Good," whispered Greg, though his throat clogged with tears. "Good. And somehow, though God only knows how, it will all work out. I promise."

"I know," whispered Ryan, taking Greg's hand and holding it. "I know." He leaned in and kissed him, deeply, releasing all his worries and his fears and just concentrating on the here and now with Greg.

Greg kissed him back, then pulled away. "What do you say we take this somewhere more private?" he asked, kissing Ryan again.

Ryan nodded. "I agree completely." They both picked up their things and left the beach, heading back to their hotel room and the temporary forgetting that would accompany it.

* * *

_**A/N:** Wait, the next day in the story is the last day? How does that work? (That was me mimicking confused readers) Alright, here's how it works:_

_According to Grissom, they had nine days: two devoted to travel and seven to "session." So, the first day when they went to the Sears tower was one travel day. The next day, when they did the trust fall, was day one of the session (day two overall). Day three was the phone calls. Days four and five were not spoken about (we can assume they had session those days). Day six was when they went to Millenium Park, and day seven was these past two chapters. Day eight will be the next chapter, along with day nine. Cool? Cool. _


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: **Usual disclaimer. That's all I feel like saying right now._

"**Baby, I'm dying"**

Greg stood on the roof of the hotel, leaning against the rail and smoking a cigarette. He tilted his head back and blew a long line of smoke into the sky.

He barely bothered turning his head as he heard someone approach behind him, instead taking another drag on the cigarette. "I didn't know you smoked," said Ryan quietly, standing behind him.

"I don't," replied Greg, not smiling.

Ryan took the cigarette from him and inhaled deeply, blowing out the smoke. "Neither do I." He dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his shoe. Leaning against the rail like Greg, he asked, "Was there a reason for this sudden smoking habit?"

Greg didn't reply, instead staring out at Lake Michigan. He finally sighed and said, "Do you know what tonight is?"

Ryan swallowed hard and nodded slowly before whispering, "It's our last night here."

Greg nodded as well. "I wish I knew how to quit you," he said suddenly, quietly and contemplatively.

Ryan snorted. "C'mon, don't go pulling that 'Brokeback' shit on me."

Greg looked over at him. "No, I'm serious." He looked away, focusing on something in the distance. "I wish I could just walk away, you know? Just say 'Hey, it's been real' and then leave this behind at the conference. But I can't."

He looked back over at Ryan, meeting his eyes with an intensity that burned. "Tell me it was nothing, and I'll go tomorrow and never look back. Tell me it was fun and that I was a great fuck, but that that was all. Tell me, and I'll go back to Vegas and you'll go back to Miami and we'll leave this right here, tonight." He paused, then yelled, "Goddamnit, tell me!"

"I can't," whispered Ryan, not meeting his eyes. "You know I can't."

Greg nodded slowly and swallowed hard, unconscious of the tears rolling down his cheeks. "Yeah, I know," he whispered. "I know." He closed his eyes and said heartbreakingly, "I never meant to fall in love with you."

Ryan reached out and touched Greg's arm, whispering, "Greg…"

This was all it took for Greg to start full out sobbing. Ryan pulled him into a hug and held him while he wept. Greg clutched Ryan for dear life, gripping his shirt in his hands and crying on his shoulder. "I don't want to leave you," sobbed Greg. "I don't want to leave you."

"I know," whispered Ryan through his own tears that dripped down his face and onto Greg's head. "God, I know." He stroked Greg's hair as he cried softly, running his hands through the blond's hair as if trying to memorize its texture.

Greg lifted his head and kissed Ryan deeply and fiercely, the tears still on his face mingling with Ryan's. They blindly stumbled back toward the rooftop door. How they made it down the stairs neither of them knew, but they soon found themselves back in their room.

They staggered through the door, Ryan closing it behind him with his foot. Greg pushed Ryan against the door and practically ripped his shirt off before taking his own off as well. Ryan ran his hands over Greg's scars and Greg shivered, his pale skin breaking out in goose bumps. His eyes burned, dark with desire, and he pulled Ryan into the bedroom. They lost their clothes somewhere along the way, and Greg pushed Ryan onto the bed. They both gave in to the frenzy of passion in a desperate attempt to forget what was going to happen the next day.

* * *

The next morning, Ryan and Greg stood on the curb, waiting fir a cab. Ryan's fleet of luggage sat behind them, next to Greg's single duffel bag. On top of each was the teddy bears that they had made for each other. 

Neither man said much as they waited. Greg fiddled nervously with his hands before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and Ryan promptly reached out and took it from his mouth, smashing it under his foot.

"What the fuck was that for?" asked Greg, not really angry, but still giving him a look.

"I don't want our last kiss to smell and taste like cigarettes," said Ryan simply.

Greg swallowed hard and reached out to grab Ryan's hand. "Ryan, I…" he began, but at that moment, the taxi pulled up.

"What?" asked Ryan, eyes searching Greg's.

"It's nothing," said Greg, breaking their gaze to give the cabby his bag. "It's nothing."

"Don't shut me out, Greg, not now, not like I did," whispered Ryan, stepping forward and taking his hand again. "Not when we've only got an hour or so left."

Tensing for a short moment, Greg then relaxed and squeezed Ryan's hand reassuringly. "I'll tell you later," he said quietly.

Once their excessive amount of luggage had been loaded, Greg and Ryan clambered into the back seat, still holding hands. They spent most of the ride in a silence only broken by Greg's sigh and whispered "Bye-bye, Chi-town," as they drove under the post office.

They arrived at the airport at exactly 11:00. Ryan glanced at his watch and then at Greg. "When does your flight leave?" he asked quietly.

Greg frowned slightly, trying to remember. "Um…noon, I think…or noon-thirty."

Ryan grinned slightly. "Did you just say 'noon-thirty'?" he asked, lifting an inquisitive eyebrow at Greg.

Grinning as well, Greg said mock-defensively, "So what if I did? Maybe that's just the way we Las Vegas-ans talk."

"Yeah, or maybe it's just the way you talk," suggested Ryan.

Greg stuck his tongue out at him and countered, "Oh yeah? Well, at least I don't slip into a southern accent occasionally, like in bed."

Blushing crimson, Ryan laughed, "Greg, I'm from the south! Besides, let's not even begin to talk about your Californian accent…"

They kept their banter up as they waited for check-in (they were both flying the same airline). Each did his best to keep the levity up, trying to ignore the impending good-bye that got closer each time the line inched forward.

By the time they reached the counter, it was 11:15. Greg smiled at the lady behind the counter and handed her his information. Ryan got his boarding pass from the man next to the lady helping Greg. They both finished at almost the same time (Greg had to wait for Ryan to check all five thousand of his bags) and then they proceeded to security together.

Security took forever, mainly because the security guards had to search Ryan's bag three times, due to a "suspicious item" that turned out to be a pair of Fiskars' safety scissors.

Greg was almost crying, he was laughing so hard, and the only question he managed to ask was, "Why the hell did you have a pair of safety scissors in your bag?"

Ryan just shrugged and they made their way to Greg's gate. Luckily, Ryan's was a only a few down, and his flight left thirty minutes after Greg's, so they both just waited at Greg's gate.

They sat in silence for a few minutes on the hard plastic chairs until Ryan asked, "What was it you were trying to tell me before?"

Greg took a deep breath and swallowed before taking Ryan's hand. "Ryan, I—" he started.

He was interrupted, however, by the loudspeaker announcing, "Now boarding First Class for flight 519 to Las Vegas. Now boarding First Class."

Greg took a deep breath again and said in a rush, "Ryan, I love you." He paused, then said more slowly, "You are the only person I will ever love like this." He paused again, trying to compose himself. Finally, he said, "I will never stop loving you until the end of time."

He was interrupted again by the loudspeaker's squawk of, "Now general boarding for flight 519. General boarding for all passengers."

Greg started again, this time faster and more intense. "I will never, ever forget you. I love you with my whole heart, and my whole soul, and that will never change."

He paused, then whispered, "Who can say if I've been changed for the better?"

Ryan half-smiled, recognizing the song from Wicked that had made them both cry, and whispered back, "I do believe I have been changed for the better."

They both whispered, "But, because I knew you, I have been changed for good."

Greg smiled briefly at Ryan before puling him to him and kissing him once more. Ryan kissed him back, hard, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Greg reluctantly pulled away when the loudspeaker announced, "Last call for boarding for flight 519 to Las Vegas."

"I guess this is it," he whispered, letting go of Ryan's hand. "I love you, and I swear I will never forget you."

"I will never forget you, either," said Ryan, trying to stop his tears. "I love you." He paused, then choked, "Good-bye."

Greg walked backwards toward the terminal. "Good-bye," he said, eyes filled with tears. "Godspeed."

He turned around and walked up to the lady, handing her his boarding pass.

"If he looks back, he loves me," whispered Ryan, watching Greg closely.

Greg hesitated for a second and turned back, raising his hand to wave briefly at Ryan. "He loves me!" exclaimed Ryan under his breath.

Then Greg turned and was gone, disappearing down the terminal to his plane, the plane that would take him from Ryan, and Ryan didn't even bother trying to stop the tears that flooded unchecked down his face.

"I love you," he repeated, turning away. "I love you."

* * *

_**A/N:** So, the song is _For Good_ from Wicked. And yes, I fully realize how corny/lame that is for them to say that to each other, but my ex and I, upon our departure, said the words of one of our favorite songs to each other, and at the time, it was terribly romantic. So yeah. _


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N:** Right, so has anyone just had one of those bad days where everything they play on the radio, no matter what station, always just seems to make it ten times worse? Because that's what this is based off of. Usual disclaimer. Sorry it's so short. Special thanks to all my reviewers. And away we go..._

"**Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?"**

Greg sat in the car, waiting for Sara. For once, she had actually agreed to let him drive. While he waited, he idly turned on the radio, wincing as the last notes of some crappy pop song died. He listened intensely as the next song came on. When Greg heard what song it was, he winced again. It was Over by Lindsay Lohan.

"If the world's still spinning,  
and I'm still living  
It won't be right if we're not in it together  
Tell me that it's Over."

Greg shook his head as he turned the dial. That song hit a little too close to home. The next station didn't have much more luck. Firstly, it was playing a Simple Plan song. Greg despised Simple Plan. Secondly, the song correlated with his life as well.

"I'd do anything  
Just to hold you in my arms  
To try and make you laugh  
Cuz somehow I can't put you in the past  
I'd do anything  
Just to fall asleep with you  
Will you remember me?  
Because I know I won't forget you."

Greg groaned aloud before readjusting the dial. This time, a Matchbook Romance song filled the enclosed space.

"Why does tonight, have to end?  
Why don't we hit restart,  
And pause it at our favorite parts.  
We'll skip the goodbyes.  
If I had it my way,  
I'd turn the car around and runaway,  
Just you and I

And I  
I don't want to speak these words  
Cuz I  
I don't want to make things any worse."

Greg quickly hit the button. Another Matchbook song came on. He only had to listen to a line before tears involuntarily filled his eyes.

"Promise me you'll never let me go."

He quickly turned the radio off. Taking a deep breath, he tried it again, this time turning to an oldies station. An Aerosmith song was playing.

"I don't wanna close my eyes  
I don't wanna fall asleep  
Cuz I'd miss you babe  
And I don't wanna miss a thing."

"Is the world conspiring against me?" shouted Greg at the radio as he twisted the dial once more. A gentle melody swirled around him.

"I never had a dream come true  
Til the day that I found you  
Even though I pretend that I've moved on  
You'll always be my baby  
I never found the words to say  
You're the one I think about each day  
And I know no matter where love takes me to  
A part of me will always be with you."

Greg started sobbing, really sobbing, big gasping sobs that shook his whole body. Laying his head down against the steering wheel, he let it all out, all the pain escaping from his body in the form of wracking sobs.

A knock on the door brought him back to the present. Raising his tear-stained face, Greg saw Sara at the window, looking worriedly in at him. She wrenched the door open and asked, "Greg, what's wrong?"

This only made him cry harder. Sara just sighed and wrapped her arms around him, holding the shaking man against her. Finally, he choked out, "I…I miss him."

"Who do you miss?" asked Sara, confused. Greg only shook his head and cried harder. "Greg, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," she said gently, rubbing his back soothingly.

He shook his head again, but this time muttered, "Ry…Ryan."

She began to understand, and she asked quietly, "You miss Ryan, huh?"

He nodded emphatically, more like a child than the thirty-year-old man he was. Sara nodded as well, still rubbing his back. "Where'd you meet Ryan at?"

"Chicago," he said, hiccupping slightly as his tears slowed to a stop.

"Ah…" said Sara, fully comprehending. "Where was he from?"

"Miami," said Greg, sitting up and wiping his cheeks.

Noticing how Greg seemed to cheer up when he talked about Ryan, Sara asked, "Well, what's he like?"

Greg smiled faintly and said, "He's amazing. Absolutely amazing. He's a CSI there, transferred up from being a police officer."

"Oo, policeman!" she said with a smile. "What did he look like?'

"He was hot," answered Greg honestly. "A little shorter than me, light brown hair, and his eyes…they were amazing." He paused, then continued. "He was everything I ever wanted: smart, funny, able to tolerate me. I mean, sure, his fashion sense could use some work," he added with a grin, "but that's ok."

"Do you love him?" asked Sara quietly.

Greg hesitated, then nodded. "I love him more than I could ever tell you. And a big part of me hopes that he misses me as much as I miss him."

"I'm sure he does, Greg," whispered Sara, hugging him tightly. "I'm sure he does."

* * *

_**A/N:** Songs, in sequential order, are _Over_ by Lindsay Lohan, _I'd Do Anything_ by Simple Plan, _Tiger Lily _by Matchbook Romance, _Promise_ by Matchbbok Romance, _I Don't Want to Miss a Thing_ by Aerosmith, and _Never Had a Dream Come True_ by S Club 7._  



	16. Chapter 16

**_A/N:_ **_Another day, another chapter. Exciting. Usual disclaimer. This chap's short too, sorry.  
_

"**Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?"**

Ryan knelt next to the dead body, visually examining it. "Three stab wounds," he mused aloud. "COD was probably exsanguination."

"Mm-hm," agreed Alexx, looking over the body. "That wound there looks like it got him in the heart." She sighed sadly. "Poor baby boy probably bled out before he even knew what was going on."

"Yeah," said Ryan, squinting at the body. "Those wounds seem to be fueled by rage, which means our vic probably knew the killer." He turned to Alexx. "You got an I.D.?"

"Here," she said, handing him the vic's wallet. "His name's Joe Sanders."

"Sanders," muttered Ryan, his face taking on an odd, closed look that didn't go unnoticed by Alexx.

"Is everything ok, Ryan?" she asked concernedly, giving him a worried look.

He shook his head as if to clear it. "Um, yeah, everything's fine." He started to get up. "I, uh, I better get these pictures to the lab," he said quickly.

She shot him a look. "Oh, no you don't," she said. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, Alexx, ok?" he said tersely, bending down to close his kit.

"Don't give me that, Ryan. I know when you're lying to me." She paused, then asked gently, "Baby, what's wrong?"

Ryan hesitated, then shook his head quickly. "Nothing, alright? I'm fine."

"Ryan, sweetie, you're not fine. You've been moody and depressed since you got back from Chicago."

Ryan's eyes filled with tears when she mentioned Chicago. Alexx's eyes narrowed. "Ryan—"

"I'm fine!" he said, wiping his eyes quickly. "Just fine. Look, I'm gonna go, um, I…"

Alexx stood and gave him a hug. "Shh, baby, it's ok," she whispered soothingly. "Let it out."

Ryan allowed himself to cry softly for a moment before he sniffled quietly. "I think I'm fine now," he said, giving Alexx a tight smile. "Or at least better."

"Well, what was wrong in the first place?" asked Alexx, still not convinced that Ryan was ok.

"Nothing," said Ryan lightly. "I just missed someone, that's all."

"Someone you had a thing with in Chicago?" asked Alexx shrewdly.

"Yeah," muttered Ryan, not meeting her eyes. "Yeah, I did, and it was great while it lasted, but they live in Vegas, and I live here, so…it just didn't work out."

"Do you love him?" asked Alexx gently.

His eyes opened wide. "How'd you…I mean, I never told—"

"Honey, I don't care that you're gay," said Alexx with a small smile. "And I've known for awhile now. And you never answered my question."

"Yeah," said Ryan, swallowing hard. "I loved him. I loved him so much…and I still do."

"What's his name?"

"Greg…Greg Sanders. He's a CSI level one for the LVPD. He's…he's so amazing. My best friend, boyfriend, soul mate all rolled up into one."

"Did you tell him how you feel? I mean, does he know?" persisted Alexx.

Ryan squared his shoulders and picked up his kit. "I hope he knows."

"So do I, baby," whispered Alexx as Ryan walked away. "So do I."


	17. Chapter 17

**_A/N:_**_ Not altogether too much to say. Second to last chapter. Usual disclaimer. Bon Appétit!_

"**Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?**

**Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?"**

"Alexx, have you noticed that Ryan's been acting depressed lately?" asked Horatio, surveying the young CSI as Ryan listlessly lifted prints from the doorknob of the house.

Alexx just shook her head without looking up. "Poor baby boy's heart is broken," she said sadly.

"The vic's heart is broken?" asked Horatio incredulously.

Alexx gave him a look. "No, Horatio, Ryan's heart is broken."

"Oh," said Horatio. He looked at Ryan with new understanding, noting his downcast eyes and lethargic movements. "What happened, Alexx?"

"Met someone in Chicago," said Alexx, carefully rolling the body. "He lives in Vegas. Bullet was a through-and-through, by the way."

"COD?" asked Horatio automatically, still watching Ryan.

"Most likely," answered Alexx, letting the body fall back into its original position. She looked up and followed Horatio's gaze to where Ryan was snapping pictures of some footprints.

"Will he be alright, Alexx?" asked Horatio softly.

Alexx stood and shrugged. "I dunno, Horatio," she said, just as softly. "Greg really broke his heart."

Horatio nodded in understanding and walked over to where Ryan was now taking pictures of a broken glass. "Mr. Wolfe," he said, "how are we doing?"

"Got a couple of partials off the door," said Ryan, not looking up. "I'm gonna take this glass back and see if I can get any prints off it."

"Very good, Mr. Wolfe," said Horatio, "but how are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Horatio," replied Ryan, still not looking at him.

"Are you sure?"

"You've been talking to Alexx," said Ryan calmly, standing and snapping one last photo.

"Maybe I have, Mr. Wolfe," said Horatio, twisting his sunglasses in his hand, "but it was only because I'm worried about you."

"Well, don't be. I'm fine," snapped Ryan.

"Mr. Wolfe, I'd suggest you cool it," said Horatio calmly.

Ryan sighed. "Sorry, H, but really, I'm fine." He picked up his kit. "Is there anything you want me to take back to the lab?"

Horatio sighed as well before slipping his sunglasses on. 'No, Mr. Wolfe, but thank you." Ryan shrugged and left, leaving Horatio alone. Horatio sighed and pulled out his cell phone, dialing number he knew by heart. "Calleigh, it's me. Yes, actually, Ryan's on his way back to the lab, and I want you to keep and eye on him, alright?" He paused. "No, everything's ok, Calleigh, I just don't think that he should be alone right now. Ok, thanks." He closed his cell and slid it into his pocket, brow wrinkled in worry for his CSI.

* * *

There few things in life that Catherine disliked more than a decomp. After all, who could possibly enjoy wading knee-deep in a shallow retention pond to retrieve a floater that had been there for a good couple of days? Worse still was doing so in the company of a companion who normally would be bouncing off the walls, singing bad songs and cracking highly inappropriate jokes at highly inappropriate times, such as making a joke about police officers when the sheriff was right behind him. Catherine hid a smile at that memory, still vaguely surprised that Greg had managed to talk his way out of that one. Today, however, the normally overexcited man was quiet…too quiet. 

"Hey, Greg?" called Catherine as she fished for the vic's boot, which had fallen off. "Are you feeling ok?"

"I'm fine, Cath," said Greg, taking a picture of the body. "Why?"

"Well, for starters, you're not singing, dancing, cracking jokes or complimenting my ass in a desperate attempt to suck up." She paused and gave him a concerned look. "It's not like you."

He shrugged and turned away. "I'm just not in the mood today, ok? I mean, I highly doubt Mr. John Doe here would appreciate me cracking jokes over his bloated, rotten corpse."

"You never used to care if the bloated, rotting corpse enjoyed your bad jokes," remarked Catherine calmly. "What changed your mind?"

"Nothing changed my mind," said Greg quietly yet firmly.

"Or maybe a certain Miami CSI is what made you lose your comedic outlook on life?" mused Catherine, shooting Greg a knowing look.

A muscle twitched in Greg's jaw. "Sara told you, huh?" he said, trying to sound light.

"No," said Catherine. "I beat it out of her. She wasn't the only one who realized you were upset, and when I figured out that she knew why, I decided to force it out of her." She paused and gave Greg a hesitant smile. "And just so you know, she only told me to prevent me from going to Grissom about your new mood."

Greg merely grunted in response, hunching over the body to take more pictures. Catherine looked at him expectantly. "Well?" she asked, arching one eyebrow. "Are you going to tell me what's going on? Sara gave me the bare minimum only."

"What more do you want to know? I had a fling with a guy in Chicago, and now it's over, ok?" snapped Greg.

Catherine's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait," she said slowly. "You had a fling with a guy?"

Greg's shoulders stiffened. "Yes, I did," he said through clenched teeth. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No! No," said Catherine emphatically, shaking her head in emphasis. "I just didn't know you were…"

"I'm not," he said calmly. "I'm bi. In fact, Ryan was my first…my first boyfriend," he said, blushing slightly.

"Wow. You must've really liked him," she said mildly.

"Liked him?" snorted Greg. "No. I didn't just like him…I love him. Er, I mean, I loved him. Past tense. It's over."

"Why?" asked Catherine, brow furrowing in confusion. "If you loved him and he loved you, why'd you guys break up?"

"He lives in Miami," said Greg simply.

"So? I mean, if you guys really loved each other, couldn't you make it work?"

Greg's jaw tightened. "Firstly, we do really love each other, but secondly, I wasn't really prepared to give up my entire life to move to Miami where I have no job, no friends, no whatever, and neither was Ryan prepared to move here." He paused, then spoke again with a slightly wavering voice. "I love Ryan, but God, I'm scared. I'm scared of what could happen if we don't work out, if I give up everything to go down there and then we break up and I'm left with nothing."

He looked so lost that Catherine went to pull him into a hug, only stopping herself when she realized she was covered in man-juice. Instead, she reached for his hand and grabbed it, squeezing it tightly. "I'm sure it'll work out, Greggo," she told him. "Love always finds a way."

* * *

Horatio looked around the emptying lab. There was one person he was looking for, and he happened to be the one person who wasn't there. Horatio left his office and went to hunt down Calleigh. He found her in the ballistics lab. "Calleigh," he said, standing behind her, "where's Ryan?" 

Calleigh set down the gun she had just test-fired. "Um…last time I checked, he was in trace. Why?"

"Because he is no longer there," said Horatio as calmly as he possibly could.

Calleigh shrugged and returned the gun to the rack. "Well, he probably went home," she said, going to retrieve the bullet.

Horatio nodded slowly. "Yes, maybe he did," he mused aloud. "At least I hope he went home. It's better than the alternative." He gave Calleigh a searching look. "Do you know what happened?"

"I know bits and pieces, but not the whole story," she answered honestly. "I know that he got his heart broken." She looked at Horatio. "Is there more I should know?"

"No," he said, putting his sunglasses on. "That's all anyone needs to know."


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N:** Last chapter! It's so sad ...( Actually, it's a bit of a relief to be done with it, although I will miss it. I am thinking about writing an alternate ending to this story and already have a song in mind in case I wished to do it. In any case, for the last time in this story I say Usual disclaimer applies. Enjoy!_

"**It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it,**

**So tell me"**

Driving Ryan home wasn't top on Horatio's to-do list. Neither was driving home a drunk, sobbing Ryan, but when Ryan had called him at two o'clock in the morning, sobbing so hard that his speech was barely coherent, Horatio knew he couldn't say no. Hence he had driven over to the bar, put Ryan in the front seat with the help of the bartender, and then gotten in the car himself before driving over to Ryan's apartment.

Horatio had never been in Ryan's apartment. He had never been invited over, and wasn't the type of person to invite himself over. Therefore he was a little shocked at the apartment when he got the door open and practically dragged Ryan inside. The interior screamed of OCD. The rooms were arranged neatly and symmetrically, colors coordinated perfectly, and the entire house was far cleaner than any house Horatio had ever been in.

A few things, however, were out of place. For example, and old, exceptionally hideous sweater was balled up on Ryan's white leather couch, looking conspicuously out of place amidst the perfectly plump pillows. Next to it was a strange, stuffed bear, dressed in miniature clothing. A bunch of photos from Ryan's trip to Chicago were scattered on top of the coffee table in the living room, instead of being stacked neatly.

It didn't take a genius to realize that looking at these pictures had been what made Ryan so upset. Horatio sighed and shook his head before carefully carrying Ryan into the immaculate bedroom. Setting the sleeping man down on the bed, he glanced at Ryan's bed stand. A single photo sat there, unframed, simply propped up against the lamp. It was Ryan and Greg at the fountain at Navy Pier.

Horatio sighed again, then paused, suddenly thoughtful. Perhaps it was time he put a call in to a friend. A very old friend, who just happened to work at the Las Vegas Crime Lab.

* * *

Grissom answered the phone with his customary, "Grissom." 

"Mr. Grissom," said a bemused voice on the other end.

Grissom smiled; he would've recognized that voice anywhere. "Horatio Crane. How are things treating you in Miami?"

"Well, they were going great until a certain lab-tech-turned-CSI of yours screwed things up."

Grissom's hear sank. "What did Greg do now?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"Tell me, Mr. Grissom, has Greg been acting strange of late?"

Grissom smiled again. "If you knew Greg, Horatio, you would know that he always acts strange."

"I mean, more so than usual. Perhaps seeming melancholy, or sad lately…"

Grissom's brow furrowed. "Now that you mention it, he has seemed quite depressed lately. Why?"

"Well, let's just say that he and one of my CSIs had a thing in Chicago, and now both seem to be heartbroken."

"Ah…" said Grissom, instantly understanding. "What can I help you do about it?"

"Well, Mr. Grissom, how would you like to do me and our CSIs a favor?"

* * *

A few days later, Ryan sat in the meeting room, morosely staring at the ceiling. Calleigh and Eric strolled in, each giving the other a concerned look before Calleigh asked tentatively, "Hey, Ryan, how are you?" 

Ryan just shrugged. Horatio walked in then, a small, knowing smile hovering about his lips. "Eric, Calleigh, please sit down." They both sat, looking confused. "You might be wondering why I called you all in here. Well…I have some news. We have a new CSI joining our team."

"Great," snorted Ryan bad-temperedly. "Just what we need, some cocky, rookie CSI to have to work with."

"You know," said a familiar voice from the doorway, "I resemble that remark."

Ryan's jaw dropped open as he wordlessly mouthed, "Greg." And there Greg stood, looking slightly nervous. With his hair spiked, his jeans ratty, his shirt untucked and advertising some band Ryan had never heard, and his feet donning those stupid Converse sneakers, he was still the most beautiful man Ryan had ever seen.

Greg shifted nervously and said quietly, "Surprise. I'm here in Miami, and I plan to stay. I mean, if you want. Because if you want me to leave, I'll head back to Vegas or whatever. I'll understand. I mean…"

Ryan cut off his ramble. "You came all the way here for me? Just to be with me?"

Greg blushed slightly. "Yeah, I did. I…I love you. You're the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. And I thought about all the things I'd miss in Vegas, but nothing could compare to missing you. I…"

Once again he was cut off, this time by Ryan striding across the room and kissing him deeply. Greg kissed him back, putting his arms around Ryan's waist and drawing him in closer.

When they broke apart, Greg gave Ryan a shy grin. "So I guess you want me to stay?"

"Oh yeah," answered Ryan, grabbing Greg's hand and firmly intertwining their fingers. "You're mine, and you're not going anywhere."

"**Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?"**

**-Fin- **

**

* * *

_A/N:_**_ So...happiness. For which I am very happy. Thanks to everyone who has followed this from chapter one. Thanks to all my reviewers, Shadowfax27, Dybdahl, urania-chan, LittleItaly, kate-kat-bar, Meismename, Nevair, nina, Parvatti, and conformityissuicide. _**  
**


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